Gotta get back into this one.
The Eighth Sin
The food was wretched at the tavern, but even the cheapest beer was good. So was the marijuana, cocaine, and opium, but neither sensible fighting-man indulged in those. From the looks of things, there were few sensible men or women in the Eighth Sin tonight. The usual smells of depravity and stale vomit were fighting a losing battle against the reeks of despair, desperation — and fresh vomit.
That suited Maddox. He leaned forward, careful not to whisper or look furtive. “That trull you knew, before. How might we find out more about the thing she was holding for you?”
Nat was an old hand at the game of speaking without using what the Old Americans called ‘key-words.’ “I don’t know. She didn’t talk much about what she did, or where she was from. Just that she once served someone who had what we wanted to have. Without her, we’re on our own.”