Idaho Impact by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

13

The interior of Theo Mason’s bank was attractive— mahogany wainscoting, handsome paintings of the mythic West, hardwood floors that shone like new pennies—but nothing was more attractive than the woman he asked for directions to the vice president’s office.

She was one of those almost too-plush redheads who narrowly missed being buxom because of a small waist and surprisingly thin arms and wrists and hands and a narrow, fine neck. In a frilly blue blouse and a long tan skirt, she was every lonesome cowpoke’s campfire dream, her lushness settling in all the right places, those being perfect breasts, the shapely bottom, and the beautifully freckled face with the somewhat coy brown eyes.

‘‘I see that the vice president’s name here is Cal Winthrop. I wonder if there’s a chance I could talk to him.’’

‘‘Is this about a loan or a deposit?’’

‘‘Afraid it’s neither. I need to talk to him about Theo Mason.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

He could tell that she’d kept her one-syllable response as neutral as possible.

‘‘I see. Well, unfortunately—and I mean unfortunately for the bank—Mr. Winthrop has been at the county seat for the past two days and won’t be back till tomorrow. I’m sure you know what happened to poor Mr. Mason. As soon as that misunderstanding is cleared up, he’ll be back here himself.’’

‘‘So you think it’s a misunderstanding?’’

‘‘Of course. Mr. Mason didn’t kill anybody. That’s absurd.He’s one of the most respected men in this part of the Territory. People like that don’t murder people.’’

‘‘Just lowlives kill people—is that what you’re saying?’’

She had been studying him with the same fervor he’d studied her. There was lively interest in the brown eyes.

An enormous smile revealed the sensuous shape of her large mouth. She said, ‘‘Yes, lowlives like you.’’

Fargo laughed. ‘‘You know who I am?’’

‘‘No. You’ve just got that look about you—dangerous. And why would I know who you are? Are you famous?’’

‘‘No. My name’s Skye Fargo. Why I asked was I thought maybe Harvey DeLong had been by here to tell all you people not to answer any questions I asked you.’’

She shook her head. ‘‘If I had a nickel for every time that man patted my bottom—’’ She suddenly looked over his shoulder. ‘‘A very important customer just came in, Mr. Fargo. Tell you what. I’m free for lunch. I have forty-five minutes. Do you know where the Silver Dollar is?’’

‘‘I’ve walked past it a few times. Why don’t you meet me there at eleven thirty?’’

‘‘Fine.’’

She touched one of her breasts in an almost shockingly erotic way. Her bosom seemed to swell with sudden excitement. ‘‘I like my men dangerous. That’s why I always resisted Theo. He talks tough but he’s basically a coward. And that’s also why he’s not a killer. He wouldn’t have the nerve for it.’’

Then she was walking away, the wisps of her perfume as sensuous as the long fine fingers that had touched her breast.

Fargo was thinking that if they had forty-five minutes alone in his hotel room . . .

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