Longarm and the Colorado gundown

_{in on both sides, the footing uncertain because of the trash that was strewn everywhere. At night, Longarm suspected, this area would be quite the rat hole.}

_{Snowshoe’s tenderloin swallowed them whole, and he could smell cheap perfume and opium smoke, could hear grunting and weeping and the rhythmic creak, creak, crunch of steel bedsprings.}

_{It occurred to him to wonder how Miss Agnes might have come to know her way around in this particular part of town.}

_{“This way,” she said, turning yet another comer. “In here.”}

_{He had to duck to pass beneath a lintel that still carried writing on it to show it once had been a part of some other object. No telling now what that might have been. He could make out the letters B, A, and N.}

_{The inside of the hovel was dark even in mid-afternoon. Too dark for one’s eyes to readily adjust. He failed to see Aggie stop in front of him, and bumped into her.}

_{“I need to see her,” Aggie said.}

_{“Wait.” The answering voice was deep. Longarm realized there was a man, presumably a guard, somewhere in front of them. It was so dark that he hadn’t seen anyone, or even realized that he and Aggie weren’t alone there.}

_{There was a sound of footsteps, and then a rectangle of light appeared ahead as a door was opened and a burly form passed through it.}

_{Longarm’s Stetson kept scraping the ceiling, and he was tired of stooping. He took the hat off and was able to stand upright without bumping his head. His eyes began to adapt to the poor light.}

_{“What are we doing here?” he whispered. Somehow whispers seemed very much in order at the moment.}

_{“Shh. You’ll see.”}

_{‘Thanks,” he said dryly.}

_{“You’re welcome.”}

_{He made a face, which Aggie couldn’t see.}

_{The wait only required a few moments more. The door was opened again, and this time the male figure stood there without stepping through. “She’ll see you, Miz Able.”}

_{‘Thank you, Parson.”}

_{Longarm had a pretty good notion that Parson, when spoken in this connection, would be a nickname and not a description. Most parsons would keel over in a dead faint if they were ever to get a look inside a place like this one.}

_{“Yes’m,” the voice said.}