Foofaraw

Seamus Milligan had been warned about the place but nothing could have prepared him for the painful decay of a ghost town in the making. Only 30 years ago, there would have been 25,000 thousand souls living here, drinking in many crowded gambling halls. Now there couldn't be more than 400 of them left, dwelling in decrepit buildings whose facades had been eaten away by the sand. The man delivering the water barrels had given him a ride, explaining on the way how the salts from the silver mine had polluted the water resources. Many had died from metal poisoning before the officials realised what was going on. 

The house was standing on the edge of town. "The wickedest night spot in town", boasted a derelict sign. He knocked at the door. 

He was blinded by the foofaraw of the prostitute's attire and attitude. 

- Hi. I'm looking for a man.

The grotesque woman burst into a castrating laughter. 

- We don't have no man whore here, Paddy. It's a respectable establishment.

- I work for Pinkerton. I'm looking for a man called Alex Ruxton, have you heard of him?

- Pinkerton? Ruxton? Dunno. My customers don't give no names, just money. Is it about them outlaws stealing Mexican beef? You won't get nothing out of me, they feed my girls.

The woman's excessive jewellery made her sound like a rattlesnake when she moved her hand in front of his face. Milligan was getting worried of only getting double negatives out of her.

- Look, I'm investigating the murder of a girl. My client has reasons to believe that Alex Ruxton might have something in his possession that would bring some light on the matter. 

- A girl? Was it a painted lady?

Milligan considered telling her the truth. But pretending that the victim was a soiled dove like her might make the shady matron more inclined to help him.

- Yes. She was found dead in a forest back in England.

- In England? and the man you work for thinks you're going to find the killer in Arizona?

He wasn't listening to her anymore. All his attention was focused on one of the many necklaces around her neck. He grabbed the woman by the throat and held her against the door.

- Where did you get that locket you frigging spunk bag?

Fear mixed with recognition flashed in her black rimmed eyes. 

- Someone gave it to me.

- Who? WHO? Who gave it to you?

The woman's face had turned red. 

- You, Paddy, you did.

Hélène L.

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