“You’ll never guess,” Lowry said. “Get decent and come on out.”
I heard the sound of feet on the floor. The bedroom door opened. A cute little redhead stood on the threshold. She was wearing a bathrobe that evidently was one of Sam Lowry’s. She had the sleeves turned up some six or eight inches. The bathrobe was wrapped around her once and a half and hung down on the floor. It made her seem unusually small.
“Take a look at him,” Lowry said. “This is the guy that slipped a fast one over on us last night, the one we lost in the freight cars.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the redhead said. “And he comes around this morning?”
“Sure.”
“What’s he want?”
“Damned if I know. Get your teeth clean, honey, and wash the sleep out of your eyes. We’ll have some breakfast and talk it over.”
She said, “Okay,” and slammed the door. A moment later I heard water running in the bathroom.
“Cute kid,” Lowry said.
“She is, for a fact.”