He started sorting through the pictures as they walked to the parking lot. "What am I looking for, Chief?"
"You'll know it when you see it."
Poe regarded Y. "That obvious?" He unlocked the car, slid into the driver's seat, and turned on the dome light. Y sat next to him and shut the passenger's door. From his pants pocket he pulled out a flask of vodka.
He took a long drink. "At last."
Poe had gone through four pictures. He decided to start again from the beginning, this time studying the photographs instead of just scanning them. "Been waiting for me to show up before you got soused. How thoughtful of you."
"I pass out, you'll take care of me."
Poe smiled. "I'll find the cleanest Dumpster this side of the Mississippi."
Y took another swig. "You're not as bad-ass as you think."
"I'm not bad-assed at all. Some have even called me a sucker." Poe pointed to a man dressed in a kaffiyeh. "I take it this is Nali Abousayed?"
Y looked at the picture. "You've got a nose for detail."
Again, Poe smiled. He examined the face—a dark-complexioned, good-looking man with crisp features. "You take clear photographs. Want to do my wedding?" A beat. "If there is a wedding?"
"For Rukmani, I'd do it."
Another flip of the snapshot. "Nali's a handsome guy." Poe raised his brow. "Rich and good-looking. Wonder why he pays for it?"
"Why do you pay for it?"
"Convenience." Poe let out a small laugh. "It's nice to know at the outset that you're going to score."
"Maybe he feels the same way."
"Maybe." Poe discarded another snapshot. "I really wish you'd tell me what I'm looking for. Will you at least tell me if I passed it?"
"You won't pass it."
"That sure of yourself." Poe took out a cigarette, sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. "Who are these wom—"
Y took the cigarette out of Poe's mouth. "I can't understand a damn thing you're saying."
Poe said, "Who are all these women with Abousayed? I don't recognize any of them. You know how many hours of gumshoe work I'm going to have to do to identify them?"
"You're doing it personally?"
"Well, Deluca and me. I'd have Jensen on the job except I don't know if he's tied up. I mean that literally."
Y didn't speak. Then he said, "You suspect her more than him, don't you?"
"I'd like to think it's him. I really want to believe it's him. But I'm honest enough to admit maybe it's her."
"Or both."
"Or both," Poe echoed. "I'm keeping an open mind. I'd sure like to find—" Abruptly, he stopped talking.
That face. That goddamn face!
Y said, "I told you you'd know it when you saw it."
Poe started sweating. As clear as daylight. And that was probably why she'd been so damn defensive when he had first approached her with the photograph of Newel. She didn't want to think about throwaway hookers. "Why didn't you just tell me over the phone?"
"And taint your meticulous police work?"
Poe muttered, "I bet she pimped for him, the bitch!"
"You know that for certain?"
"I'm going to find out." Poe wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. "Where do you want to be dropped off?"
Y looked at the car's clock. "It's three in the morning."
"I know. Naked City should be wide awake. I hope
Lamar Larue's in the mood for some ID work."
"Let me go with you—"
"No way, José."
"Romulus, you look and smell cop. You'll clear the place out before you get anywhere. Me? I look like a desperado. They see me, they think a gomer with a welfare paycheck."
"A gomer?"
Y said, "You've never heard that expression? Get Outta My Emergency Room. Doctors call us indigents behind our back."
"You're not indigent." Poe regarded the old man. "Exactly how do you make ends meet?"
Y took a final gulp from his flask. "It's not so hard when you don't own anything."
Poe waited until seven in the morning for the wake-up call, spending several restless hours dozing in his Honda. He'd dropped Y off at the Havana, rented him a room, and given him fifty bucks spending money. Why he paid for the old man when Y had a bank account was anyone's guess. Something to do with tribal loyalty coupled with genuine affection.
When he knocked on the door, Honey asked who it was. He identified himself, and she greeted him in a flowing lavender robe which was open to reveal a sheer, short nightie. There was something feathery and fuzzy on her feet. Her aqua eyes were sleepy and half hooded, her lips were pink and puffy. No makeup. He wasn't a client who was worth the effort. She cocked her hip, scolding him with a look.
"It's customary to call."
"Can I come in?"
"Can I stop you?" She stepped aside and he walked in.
Looking intensely at her face. She was probably thirty by now, without so much as a line on her brow. It was as if a worrisome thought had never passed through her brain. She was gorgeous and arrogant. As carefree as a butterfly as long as men wanted her to spread her legs.
She spoke with conceit. "I knew you'd be back."
"Have a seat," Poe said.
She gave him a seductive smile. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
Like a Pavlovian dog, he felt himself go hard. "In a few minutes. First, you sit." A beat. "Please."
"You're acting awfully distant." Honey's expression hardened. "Oh God! You aren't going to start in on that girl, are you?"
"Brittany New—"
She was disgusted. "Poe, it's seven in the morning. Either drop your pants or get out of here."
Poe remained rooted to his spot. "I wasn't going to ask you about Newel."
Honey tapped her foot. "So what do you want?"
Poe pulled out a postmortem shot of Sarah Yarlborough. "Do you know her? I've got a witness that says you do."
Immediately, Honey grew angry and turned her head. "I'm not looking. Get out before I throw you out!"
"I'm not leaving. You don't like it, call the police."
Honey closed her robe and stomped over to the kitchen phone. "You know, even cops don't have a right…" She punched in for directory assistance. "You can't get away with strong-arming—"
"I haven't touched you, Honey. Nor do I want to."
She jerked her head up, a stunned expression on her face. Someone was talking in her receiver. She faltered, then said, "Yes, I want the number of Las Vegas Metro Police…I don't know which station! Any station!" A moment later, she slammed the phone down and started dialing.
Calmly, he waited out her bluff.
"This is going to be a blot on your perfect record. A cop being arrested here…barging in on me. You can't get away with this!"
Someone at the front desk spoke in the receiver. Honey paused, then again slapped the receiver back into the cra dle. She stood there with her arms folded tightly across her chest. "What do you want from me?"
Poe went into the kitchen and spoke softly. "Just take a look at this photo—"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to." She glared at him. "And you can't force me!"
He pocketed the picture. "Then that tells me something."
"Like what?"
"Like you're scared to death."
She paled. "No, it tells you that I don't like looking at dead girls!"
"Especially if you had something to do with their deaths."
"You're acting crazy, Romulus!" She licked her lips seductively. "Maybe you need something that you haven't been getting from your doctor friend. So what do you say?"
"Honey, this is serious. If you don't start listening to me, you're going to go down for murder."
She stomped off. "I don't know what you're talking about! Get out of here!"
"Let me explain it as briefly as I can," Poe said. "See, there was once a very young and beautiful girl who tried to make it in this g
odforsaken town. Well, she didn't exactly make headlines on the marquee, but she was a star under the sheets—"
She slapped him hard on his bad cheek. "Fuck you, Scarface!"
Poe forced himself not to flinch. He bit back pain and went on, "She managed to hook up with the big boys, specifically Parker Lewiston. They did the nasty for a couple of years and then he unceremoniously put her back on the streets. And there she was. A has-been at the ripe old age of twenty-one—"
She attempted another slap. He caught her wrist and gently lowered her arm. "You hit me again, I'll arrest you, darlin'."
Tears were running down her eyes. She started to run away, but he held her arm tight.
"She was a has-been," Poe said, "but she wasn't stupid. Moreover, she was persistent. Although she knew Lewiston was no longer interested in her physically—at twenty-one she was just too damn old—she asked him if she could work in other capacities in exchange for being set up. Being as she wasn't the typical dumb bimbo, he struck a bargain with her. She'd work for him as a call girl for his important clients. Also, she could be one of his arm girls—someone above legal age to have dinner with. So he wouldn't look so perverted—"
"Why are you doing this to me?" she cried out. "I was always so nice to you!"
"Parkerboy kept his word and set her up. Later, as she began to age, he didn't want her anymore as an arm girl. To keep a roof over her head, he told her, she had to start doing some real work—like pimping. Because he wanted very young girls…more like children—"
"Stop it!"
"And she agreed, bringing him young, damaged goods—"
"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Her eyes were deep overflowing pools. She gasped as she spoke. "Please stop it! Please let me go!" Out of breath. "Please! Let me go!"
She was wailing now. He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably on his shoulder. At first, her emotions seemed real—deep moans of sadness and regret. But soon she turned them into something manipulative. She wound her arms around his back and pressed her hips into his groin, feeling for an erection. It was there.
Pavlovian dog.
She quieted, wiping her eyes with her hand. She whispered, "This is all so ugly, Romulus. Why have ugliness in your life when you could have pleasure—"
He broke away and held her at arm's length. "Honey, listen to me. You set Sarah Yarlborough up with Parker Lewiston and he killed her—"
"No—"
"Know what that makes you? It makes you more than an accessory—"
"No! You're wrong—"
"You could be charged with first-degree murder!"
She moaned out, "But you don't understand!"
Immediately, Poe thought about reading Honey her rights. But everything he'd done so far had skirted the bounds of legality. If he were to start getting official, he knew she'd lock up tighter than a bank vault. Instead, he asked her to explain it to him.
She dried her eyes and looked at him with a baleful expression. "It wasn't supposed to happen!"
Poe waited.
"It was…an accident."
Poe nodded, signaling for her to continue.
"Parker…he sometimes gets…" She looked away.
"He gets rough?"
She faced him and nodded. "But you've got to understand. From the beginning, I always asked for girls who could take it rough. Because if they can, there's money. Money for their pimp, money for them. If they were good, Parker always made sure the girls got their fair cut. It's all part of the package."
Poe paused. "Was Parker rough with you, Honey?"
She nodded.
"Tell me."
She broke away from him and lit a cigarette. Her hands were shaking. "Is it necessary to talk about me?"
"The more you can tell me, Honey, the better it is for you."
She puffed hard, blowing smoke in his face. "He likes tools." She glared at him. "Do you need more details?"
"I'm getting the idea." He lit his own cigarette and blew smoke away from her face. "What happened between Sarah Yarlborough and him?"
"Sarah Yarlborough was the crack girl with the pink hair?"
"Yes."
Honey continued to smoke. "I never knew her name. Her pimp just told me she could do the job."
"Sarah's pimp—Ali Abdul Williams."
She seemed shocked at the mention of his name.
Poe said, "Yes, Honey, I do actually work as a cop. Know what happened to A.A.?"
She looked at him expectantly. He drew a line across his throat. Her hands migrated toward her own neck. For the first time, Honey's eyes seemed concerned. "How?"
"Car accident."
Instant relief. "Oh, well, it happens—"
"A rigged car accident."
She became defensive. "How do you know that?"
"See, it's this big chain-reaction thing. You mess with one part of the car, it does other things to other parts of the car. And that makes cops real suspicious. Kind of like Sarah Yarlborough. You start cutting her up with knives, all of a sudden—"
"It wasn't my fault!"
He felt like saying tell that to a jury. Instead, he said, "Okay. It wasn't your fault. So let's see how we can get you out of this mess."
Instantly, she smiled. "You still have a thing for me, don't you?"
"Honey, I'm going to have to read you your rights now."
She walked away. "Then I'm not going to talk to you."
"It's just a formality."
"Bullshit!" Her self-preservation suddenly kicked in. She spun around. "I want a law—"
"Okay, okay." Poe took in a breath, let it out. "Listen to me, girl. I want to help you. I want to get you a deal, and I think I can. I want to get you immunity in exchange for your testimony against Lewiston—"
"No way I'm going up against him!" She shook her head vehemently. "You can bring me down in chains and I won't say a word. I'll take my chances with the courts."
"He's not untouchable, Honey. I've already got evidence against him in the murder."
"What kind of evidence?"
"I wouldn't be much of a cop if I told you that." He paused to formulate his tall tale. "Suffice it to say, I've got strong, indisputable evidence. I've also got witnesses that put him with Yarlborough."
"So what do you need me for?"
"Your corroboration would be the icing on the cake!"
"Forget it!" Honey stomped her cigarette butt in a crystal ashtray. "I'd rather eat a gun."
Poe was surprised by her adamance. "Honey, Lewiston is going down. Do you want to drown with him?"
She broke into vicious laughter. "You arrogant little twerp! Maybe you could hang something on me. But Parker isn't going anywhere. You're a runt in his world, Poe. He eats guys like you for breakfast."
"You're not leaving me much choice, Honey." Poe threw the butt of his cigarette into her sink. "If I don't get Lewiston, I'll have to come after you. You'd be surprised how tenacious I can be."
"You won't last any longer at this than you do at sex."
Poe smiled. "Just doing you a favor. I thought whores liked it fast—"
"Get out of here."
Poe grabbed her robe, the fabric ripping under his force. He shoved his face against hers. "Remember this face, Honey. Because you're not going to eat, sleep, fuck, or even take a crap without seeing me pop up out of nowhere—"
"You can't harass me! I'll have your badge for this! Get out of here!"
He let her go with a shove.
Honey picked up the phone. "I'm calling your superior! I'm going to ruin you!"
"Good luck to you!" He opened the door and stepped outside. Just to let her know that she hadn't gotten to him, he shut the door gently.
FORTY
IT HAD been a long haul…a heavy haul. But at least that part of the job was finally done. Done and done away with. What a relief! Now it was solo time. For the first time to be completely selfreliant.
Enough to make a being giddy.
Independent
after an entire life of beings bossing you around, telling you what to do and what not to do. Of souls who were stupid trying to convince you that they weren't stupid, that they were right, when you knew that they were at fault. And helpless to defend yourself. Being beaten down by people inferior to you.
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