Milo Talon Read Online Free

table and placed them before her. “There. Now you have a choice. And if you are careful that will keep you until you have a job and pay your fare to Denver as well.”
    She started to speak but I waved it aside. “I’ve been broke. I know how it is, and it’s easier for a man.”
    Taking up the brown envelope received from Jefferson Henry, I opened it. There were several cameraportraits, the first of a young man elegantly dressed, a hand on the back of a chair, one knee slightly bent. It was an intelligent face but an empty one.
    The second picture was of the same young man, this time seated with a young woman. She had a pert, saucy expression that I found intriguing. The third picture was of the same couple, this time with the man standing, the girl seated and holding a child. The two latter pictures had been taken outside. There were other things than the faces that caught my attention.
    Placing the pictures at one side I refilled my cup and took up the letters. Pinned to the top letter was a short list of names.
    Newton Henry
m. Stacy Albro (d. Nancy)
Associated with:
Humphrey Tuttle
Wade Hallett.
    The names meant nothing to me. The girl I would be seeking would be Nancy Henry, the daughter. My eyes returned to the mother. A most attractive girl and a smart one if I was any judge, also there was something disturbing about her. Had I known her somewhere? Somehow? Or seen her?
    The mother would be older than I, but not by that much. Newton Henry had married Stacy Albro and Nancy was their daughter. Newton or she had somehow been associated with Tuttle and Hallett.
    The Pinkerton report was exhaustive. They had spent a lot of time and money to come up with noanswer, and for them it was unusual. Almost unbelievable, given the circumstances.
    The person to whom the letters had been addressed was deceased, their report stated. The letters offered no hint as to their origin.
    As I was shuffling the papers together to replace them in their envelope, the picture of the man and his bride fell to the floor. The girl at the next table picked it up to return to me. She gasped.
    Having bent to retrieve the picture from the floor, I glanced up. She was pale to the lips. “What’s wrong?” I straightened up. “Do you know them?”
    “Know them? Oh, no!
No!
It’s just that—well, she’s so
pretty!”
    She handed the picture back to me a bit reluctantly, I thought. “Thank you. I was hoping you knew them.”
    “Are they relatives?”
    “No, just some people I am trying to locate.”
    “Oh? Are you an officer?”
    “It’s a business matter.” She was rising to leave. “You did not tell me your name?”
    “Nor did you tell me yours.” She smiled prettily. “I am Molly Fletcher.”
    “Milo Talon here.” A glance toward the kitchen showed me German was hard at work. “He seems to be busy now, but if you wish to stay in this town I’d suggest talking to German Schafer. He might need some help.”
    She thanked me and turned away. I watched her out to the street and glanced after her as she started toward the hotel.
    Suppose, just suppose that man across the streetwas not watching for me, but for her? It made a lot more sense. She was a very pretty girl.
    One by one I began reading the letters, yet my attention was not on them.
    Molly Fletcher—if that was her name—had recognized one or both of the people in that picture. There was no other way to account for that quick intake of breath.
    Who was Molly Fletcher? Why had she come here, and why did she wish to stay?
    Was her presence in the restaurant accidental? And why had she chosen me to address? Of course, she may have simply been waiting until someone was alone, but the drummer had certainly let her know he was available. Women had seemed to find me interesting, although I never knew why. It might be that I talked of faraway places they had never seen.
    Yet why did she wish to stay here, of all places? And why, when it came to that, had Jefferson Henry chosen this