Longarm and the Voodoo Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

lush body on display in the light of a lantern that hung above her head. Her breasts were large, the nipples rouged, and one hand was between her legs as she caressed herself. Annie was looking in the same direction, but if she saw the lewd spectacle, she gave no sign of it.
    "Ah, here we are," Clement announced a few moments later. "The Brass Pelican."
    The outside of the gambling club appeared to be better kept up than many of the buildings in the area. It was a low brick structure with a pair of whitewashed columns flanking the heavy entrance door. Above the door, mounted on an iron rod that protruded from the building, was the statue that gave the club its name. Longarm had to admit that the sculpture was an accurate rendering of a pelican. The bird's wings were lifted, as if it was ready to take off, but its long legs were still curled underneath its body. The huge beak was pointed down at the short flagstone walk leading to the entrance, and the pelican appeared to be casting a skeptical eye at the patrons who passed back and forth beneath it.
    Clement stepped down from the carriage first, followed by Longarm. Longarm hesitated, unsure whether or not he should offer his hand to Annie or allow her brother to assist her down. She held out both hands as she stepped through the carriage door, however, so both Longarm and Clement had one to grasp. She linked arms with them and walked between them up to the door of the Brass Pelican.
    A huge black man wearing a uniform similar to that of the doorman at the St. Charles Hotel was on duty there. He greeted the newcomers with a broad smile and said, "Good evenin', Mr. Clement, suh. And to you as well, ma'am."
    "Good evening, Luther," replied Clement. "This is Mr. Parker. He's our guest for the evening."
    "Yes, suh." The doorman nodded respectfully to Longarm. "How do, Mr. Parker."
    Longarm returned the man's nod, then walked into the club with Annie and her brother as Luther opened the door. The sound of someone playing a piano quite loudly came to Longarm's ears, which was no surprise. Just about every saloon and gambling joint in the world had a piano player, no matter where it was. In this case, though, the fella pounding on the ivories actually seemed to have some musical talent, and the piano itself was almost in tune. That was pretty rare.
    The air was thick with noise. The music, the laughter of women, the clatter of the roulette wheel and the rattle of dice, the almost prayerful words of the gamblers as they called on this spin of the wheel or this throw of the dice to come out in their favor for a change, the exultant shouts and the bitter curses when the outcome of the play was determined ... it was all familiar to Longarm. He had heard it in a hundred saloons, in a hundred different towns. And the smells were the same too. Tobacco, whiskey, spilled beer, cheap perfume, unwashed human flesh. Not really a pleasant odor, but one to which a man could become accustomed, and a part of him would miss it all, the noise and the stink both, whenever he found himself in a place that was quiet and clean and well lighted.
    Longarm put a cheroot in his mouth and clamped his teeth down on it. A place like this always made him feel as if he had just come home.
    Most of the big main room was taken up with gambling tables and apparatus, he saw as he looked around. But there was a tiny dance floor, as Annie had mentioned earlier in the day, tucked away in the left rear corner. A mahogany bar ran down the right-hand side of the room, and at the end of it was a door that no doubt led into some back rooms where other business was conducted.
    Standing at the end of the bar near the door was a tall, burly man whose head was as hairless as a billiard ball. He wasn't old, however. Longarm judged the man's age to be about the same as his own. He wore a dark, conservative suit that might have belonged to a banker or a lawyer instead of a saloonkeeper and proprietor of a gambling den. He chewed on