"OK, he asked me about someone."
"Who?"
The cowboy bartender gestured with his hand.
Pari handed him a hundred dollars.
"Helson." The cowboy bartender picked up the hundred-dollar bill, looked at it, and kissed it.
"Helson Sweeney."
"That's right, that guy. Heard from that cop, he died last night."
"What else did that cop say?"
"I didn't ask, and I wasn't much interested."
"But he sat at the bar for a long time; you guys must have talked about more than just these two sentences, right?"
"He spent most of the time talking to some effeminate officer; I just stood by."
"What did they talk about?"
"I didn't hear it very clearly."
"Then tell me what you did hear."
The cowboy bartender furrowed his brows and thought for a moment, "Uhm... I think it was... a headless female corpse... the murderer committed suicide from guilt... something about gas...
Right, and something about telling the effeminate officer to gather the evidence for closing the case."
