Free Pigs Get Fat (Trace 4) by Warren Murphy Page A

asked.
    “You don’t know?” Trace shook his head, and she said, “Maybe you’re not so smart after all. Thomas uses it to fool around. He brings women there.”
    “And you were one of the women,” Trace said, speaking softly, making sure there was no accusation in his voice, only a flat statement of fact.
    “Just once,” she said.
    “When was that?”
    “About a year ago, right after he got the place.”
    “Was that the only time you ever slept with him?” Trace asked.
    “Yes.”
    “How did he keep his hands off you? Rose told me what kind of guy he is. How could he not be all over you?”
    “He is all over me,” she said. “Since I first came to work here, he’s been pawing me, goosing me, propositioning me. At first I thought he was just another nerd and then I saw he was serious. Are you going to tell him anything I say?” she asked suddenly.
    “Not a chance,” Trace said. “Not him and not anybody else.”
    “I guess I believe you,” she said. “Should I?”
    “I’m the only game in town,” Trace said.
    She thought about that for a long while, long enough for Trace to wave to the waitress for another drink.
    “Okay. Collins is a real mutt. He never lets up, he never stops hitting on you, no matter how much you tell him to back off, no matter how many times you say no. He’s not above telling you that he’s the boss and it would help you to be nice to him.”
    “If you feel that way, how’d you wind up there with him?”
    “I stood him off for three years and then one night I weakened. I just broke up with a boyfriend; it was kind of messy and I was feeling punk. Thomas was in the office late that night and so was I, and well, one thing led to another.”
    “Why do you think he didn’t tell anybody about it?” Trace asked.
    Laurie shrugged. “If he told his wife about the farm, what good would it be to him?”
    “Why not tell Rose? They’re partners, after all. Do they have secrets?”
    “I don’t know,” she said.
    “What kind of women does Collins fool around with?” Trace asked.
    “Ugly ones.”
    “Present company excepted,” he said with a smile.
    “You have to realize we weren’t close,” she said.
    “That’s a given. Anything you can tell me would be appreciated and kept quiet.”
    “He messes around with any woman who’ll mess around with him,” she said.
    “Pros? Hookers?” Trace asked.
    “I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so. I mean, the man’s got a few bucks, I don’t think he’d mess around with hookers. But waitresses, clerks, anybody, you name it, that man never stops sniffing.”
    “All one-night stands?” Trace asked. “What about romance? Long love affairs? Anything like that?”
    “I don’t know. We’re hardly pals.”
    “How’d you stand him off after you went to the farm with him?” Trace asked.
    “He came on to me after that like the Iranian army, swooping and screaming, but I told him no, never again, it was a mistake and leave me alone.”
    “And he did,” Trace said.
    “He never did. He was always after me, but I didn’t bend.”
    “Did he ever talk about any other women? Do you remember any names?”
    “He talked all the time, but never any names. You know, it was that kind of joke talk that a lounge lizard gives you with the raised eyebrows and the winks and all that crap, but always with a built-in out. Men like that can always tell a wife they were just joking. It was locker-room talk, embarrassing, from some guy on the make. I wonder if men know how women hate that kind of bull.”
    “Men who talk like that are too dumb to care,” Trace said, feeling very noble. “Did he ever mention a woman named Mandy?”
    “No. No names. Maybe sometime in his bragging he said something like that, but I wouldn’t remember. Is there a reason?”
    “I found a note that said somebody named Mandy was at the farm with him,” Trace said.
    “I’m sorry. The name doesn’t mean anything to me.”
    “What do you think of Mrs.