A Touch of Death Ch. 06

I was in awe. "Holy crap. He didn't cut corners on getting even."

"Steven had quite the temper," she agreed with the shake of her head. "Still, I don't know that Alison would have it in her to kill. Edward, on the other hand, hated Steven and he can be a violent man."

I had all too clear a memory of his temper. "You seem to be pretty up-to-date on what Steven was like. How did you know him?"

She smiled sadly. "Steven was my older brother. He and I were both outcasts in our way and we managed to stay close and give each other the chance to live a life without judging each other."

I frowned and examined her face more closely. I didn't see any family resemblance at all. "Please forgive me, but after Alison's little performance I'm not sure I take anything at face value. You don't look a lot like Steven Armstrong."

She opened her stylish purse and slid her wallet across to me. "Feel free to browse." It was made of smooth, soft leather and looked like it had cost a fortune.

I opened it and looked at her driver's license. She was listed as Ginger Armstrong. Thinking of fakes, I slid it out of its plastic slip and examined it closely. It looked real enough to me. There were also numerous credit cards in her name, some with photos, a voter registration card, and some pictures, including one with her and Steven Armstrong standing together on a ski slope, their arms around each other and grinning like idiots at the camera.

I put everything back and slid it across to her. She put it away and waited expectantly.

"That proves your name is Armstrong. It doesn't mean you're his sister, though. You could be his wife or ex-wife yourself." I kept my voice non-accusatory. "After Alison, how could I know?"

She nodded. "I could be, but I'm not. You're smart to question. 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' Any of Steven's yachting friends can at the very least confirm I'm not his wife or ex-wife and I'm sure most of them have either met me or heard of me through him. All I ask is that you do the Ronald Reagan thing. 'Trust, but verify.'"

I slowly nodded. "I think I can do that. You said you were both outcasts. Why is that?"

She laughed briefly. "Him because he was generally an ass. Me because I rent my body."

I blinked while I absorbed the implications of that. "You're a prostitute?" I asked in surprise.

She shook her head. "I prefer high-end escort but it's all semantics. I make a very good living at it."

"Why do you degrade yourself like that?"

Prostitution was legal in the state of Nevada. Four of the counties passed laws against it, including ours, but I wasn't sure how aggressive the enforcement might be.

"I don't see it as degrading," she said with a grin. "I love sex. Really, I love sex a lot. I've often wondered if I might be one of those mythical nymphomaniacs guys always wonder about. I figured out young that I should do what I love. Selling sex, leasing myself if you will, has put a lot of money in my bank account since I turned eighteen. I don't come cheap, if you'll forgive the double entendre."

"Where do you, um, work? Here in Angel's Point?"

She shook her head. "Mostly I work down in Stateline, though I have some good clients up this way. Though now that Steven is gone I might move into his place and set up shop here."

"I hate to point it out, but county law makes it a crime both here and in Stateline. Aren't you worried about going to jail?"

Her grin was wide and tall. "Nope. I sign up for the performance of things like massage or erotic dancing at the client's home or my office. If the client wants more he has to explicitly ask for the service. I never mention it. That would taint any arrest with entrapment. Besides, my clients are either known to me or recommended through someone who is."

I shrugged. What business was it of mine anyway? "Okay. That's really not my business anyway. Are you always so outspoken about it?"

She shook her head. "No, but I need your trust so I'm laying all my cards on the table. Don't worry about me." Her eyes focused past my shoulder. "Actually, here comes someone who can verify exactly how I'm related to Steven. A local you probably know."

I twisted in my chair and looked back at the main entrance to the dining room. Walking through arm-in-arm, were Dora and Calvin Fletcher.