Page 57 of Down These Strange Streets (George R.R. Martin) (Kitty Norville 6.50)

“So leave town,” Rick said.

“And go where? Do what? With what money?”

“I can give you money,” Rick said.

“On a bartender’s salary? That’ll get me to where, Colorado Springs? No, Rick, I’m not going to ask you for money.”

He ducked to hide a smile. Poor kid, thinking she was the only one with big secrets. “But you’ll ask me for a place to hide.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just I didn’t know where to go, I don’t have any other friends here. And now I’ve dragged you into it and if Blake finds out he’ll go after you, too.”

“Helen, don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” He squeezed her hands, trying to impart some calm. She didn’t have any other friends here—that he believed.

“You probably hate me now.”

He shrugged. “Not much point to that.”

She tilted her head, a gesture of curiosity. “You’re different, you know that?”

“Yeah. I do. Look, I know a place where Blake absolutely won’t find you. You can stay there for a couple of days. Maybe this’ll blow over. Maybe they’ll catch Blake. In the meantime, you can make plans. How does that sound?”

“Thanks, Rick. Thanks.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

ONE OF THE UNIFORMED OFFICERS CAME INTO THE LIVING ROOM TO HAND Hardin a paper cup of coffee. Rick declined the offer of a cup for him.

“So she had a criminal background,” Hardin said. “Did she do any time?”

“No,” Rick said. “She was a runner, a messenger. Never anything more serious than that.”

“Prostitution?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He was pretty sure he would have known if she had. But he couldn’t honestly say what she’d done before he met her. “I know she saw a lot that she probably wasn’t supposed to see. She testified in a murder trial.”

“You said that was over sixty years ago. Surely anybody who wanted to get rid of a witness is long gone,” the detective said.

; “You only asked if I knew why someone would want to kill her. That’s all I can think of. She didn’t have much property, and no family to leave it to even if she did. But I do know that sixty years ago, a few people did have a reason to want her dead.”

“Only a vampire would think it reasonable to look into sixty-year-old motives for murder.”

He hadn’t really thought of it like that, but she was right.

“Do you have any other questions, Detective?”

“What did she do since then? I take it she wasn’t still working as a runner.”

“She went straight. Worked retail. Retired fifteen years ago or so. She led a very quiet life.”

“And you said she doesn’t have any family? She never married, had kids?”

“No, she didn’t. I think her will has me listed as executor. I can start making arrangements.”

She rested her pen again. “Do you think she was lonely?”

“I don’t know, Detective. She never told me.” He thought she probably was, at least some of the time.