The woman in the conference room turned and he saw her in profile. She wore a brown blazer over a turtleneck sweater and her lighter brown skirt stopped just above her knees. They were very nice knees. He knew who those knees belonged to.
Granddaughter of a city pioneer. Daughter of a big-time, if shady, gambler. Miss Helldorado 1957. Champion horse jumper and barrel-racer. Major figure in the town’s social scene. Involved with all the local charities and causes. Two lucrative divorces behind her. Now married to the Casbah’s genius.
She hung up the phone and smiled at him. Heber smiled back. The pictures in the newspapers didn’t do her justice.