“I found you through your sister.”
One eyebrow arched a fraction of an inch higher. “Wanda Gail? I thought she believed that speaking my name aloud would turn her into a pillar of salt, or some such nonsense. How is she? Never mind,” she said when she sensed Alex’s hesitation.
“I’ve seen Wanda Gail from a distance. She looks terrible. That little pecker who professes to be a man of God has nearly ruined her health, as well as her looks. Her kids go around like ragamuffins. If she wants to live like that, fine, but why impose poverty on them?”
She was genuinely indignant. “There’s no righteousness in being poor. I’d like to help her financially, but I’m sure she would rather starve than take a cent from me, even if her husband would allow it. Did she just come right out and tell you that her sister was a whore?”
“No. She only gave me directions here. I guess she assumed that I already knew your… occupation.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“My business has been lucrative, but I’m branching out. I used to screw men for fun, Ms. Gaither. I’m still screwing them, but now I do it mostly for money. And you know what? Money’s even more fun.” Her laugh was throaty and complacent.
She had none of Wanda Gail’s timidity. Alex got the impression that Nora Gail wasn’t afraid of Satan himself, that she would walk up to him and spit in his eye without an ounce of trepidation. After that, she would probably seduce him.
“In fact,” she continued, “you were lucky to catch me in. I just returned from a meeting with my banker. No matter how busy he is, he makes room in his schedule to see me.”
She gestured down at the portfolio lying open on top of the desk directly in front of her. Even reading it upside down, Alex recognized the logo on the letterhead.
“NGB, Incorporated,” she mouthed silently. When her eyes met the madam’s again, Nora Gail’s were gloating. “You are NGB, Incorporated? Nora Gail Burton,” she said faintly.
“That’s right.”
“You signed the letter the businesspeople sent to me.”
“I helped draft it.” Her long, beautifully manicured nails sank into the cat’s lush fur as she scratched it behind the ears. “I don’t like what you’re trying to do here, Miss Gaither. I don’t like it at all. You’re about to throw a goddamned wrench into all my carefully orchestrated plans for expansion.”
“As I recall, NGB, Incorporated proposes to build a resort hotel near Purcell Downs.”
“That’s right. A resort complete with golf course, putting greens, tennis courts, racquetball, swimming. You name it, it’ll have it.”
“And does a whore come with every room?”
Nora Gail gave another of her bawdy laughs, taking no offense. “No. But
who knows better how to show folks a good time than an old whore? I’ve got the best resort architects in the country working on the layout. It’ll be spectacular, gaudy as hell, which I’ve decided the tourist trade likes. Everybody who comes to Texas from out of state, particularly from back east, expects us to be loud, raucous, and tasteless. I don’t want my customers to be disappointed.”
“Have you got the money to build a place like that?” Alex asked, her peevishness giving way to curiosity.
“I’ve got enough put aside to borrow against. Honey, more cowboys, truckers, roughnecks, white-collar types, statesmen, and would-be statesmen have trooped up those stairs than I could count,” she said, pointing toward the staircase. “Actually, I could tell you exactly how many, how long each stayed, what he did, what he drank, what he smoked, whatever you wanted to know. My records are that meticulous.
“I’m a whore, but I’m a goddamned smart one. You don’t go into this business just knowing how to make a john come. You go into it knowing how to make him come quickly so you can move on to the next one. You’ve also got to know how to get him to drop more dollars than he intends to while he’s visiting.”
She sat back and stroked the cat. “Yes, I’ve got the money. More important, I’ve got the brains to pyramid it into a fortune. With that resort, I can go legitimate. I’ll never have to give a blow job to another stiff cock unless it’s one of my own choosing, or listen to another hard-luck story from a man about how his wife doesn’t understand him.
“I’m living for the day I can move out of this place and into town, hold my head up, and say, ‘Kiss my ass,’ to anybody who doesn’t like me moving into his neighborhood.” She pointed her cigarette toward Alex. “I don’t need a cheerleader like you to come in here and fuck it up for me.”
It was quite a speech. In spite of herself, Alex was fascinated, though not cowed. “All I’m trying to do is solve a murder case.”
“Not for the sake of law and order you’re not. The state doesn’t give a damn about Celina Gaither’s killing, or it would have been looked into years ago.”
“You’ve just admitted that the case warrants being reopened.”
Nora Gail gave an elegant shrug. “Maybe from a legal standpoint, but not from a personal one. Listen, sugar, take my advice. I’m talking to you now like I would to one of my girls when things aren’t working out for her.” She leaned forward. “Go home. Leave things here the way they were. Everybody’ll be happier, especially you.”
“Do you know who murdered my mother, Ms. Burton?”