There was one girl working, and although she was as pretty—or prettier—than the ones across the street, her dress was not as fancy. It was low-cut, but it was plain. Decker went to the bar, and the bartender smiled, remembering him. “Beer?” he asked. “Whiskey first, then a beer.” The bartender poured him a shot. “Been across the street?” “Yep.” “Like it?” Decker made a face and said, “It’s too damn noisy.” “Got some good-looking women over there, though, don’t they?” Decker glanced at the woman at the end of the bar, who looked back. “You don’t seem to be doing so bad here,” he said. “Ah, that’s Martha. They’ve tried to hire her at the Dice Box, but she’s loyal.”