“She could work second shift if she wanted to.”
“So why doesn’t she if it would mean more money?”
“She likes to tuck her little boy in at night.” Then, after seeing the look of surprise that crossed DeMarco’s face, “What, you think none of these girls have maternal instincts?”
“You know them better than I do. You tell me.”
“We’ve got our crack and heroin whores, sure. You’ve probably spotted a couple of them already. We’ve also got our girls trying to put themselves through college. Then we’ve got our single mothers trying to feed their babies. And then we’ve got the usual assortment of head cases.”
“Tell me about the head cases.”
“How long you been a cop? You know them better than I do.”
It was true; he remembered them all. He remembered the sadists, the masochists, the ball bashers, the cutters, the little lost girls, the thrill junkies, the sin lovers, the nymphos, the fetishists. He knew why women fucked when they didn’t fuck for pleasure or money. They fucked because they wanted to be loved or they wanted control or they wanted to hurt themselves or somebody else. They fucked for annihilation, temporary as it might be.
“Did Professor Huston have a favorite?”
“I just pour the drinks.”
“I know, it’s your job not to notice. But I’m asking you, Bonnie, okay? I’m just asking if you happened to notice a pattern of any kind.”
“Most nights after nine, ten o’clock, I’m so busy pouring drinks that the only thing I pay attention to is the money coming in. Speaking of which, you owe me thirty dollars. Plus tip.”
“Thirty dollars? I didn’t order that triple you poured me.”
“I didn’t charge you for it. It’s twenty for the champagne, five each for your single Jacks. The rest was on me.”
Scowling, he laid two twenties on the counter. “A night at Whispers doesn’t come cheap, does it?”
“You want cheap, there’s places for that. You probably know them all already.”
He let the comment pass. Then, “So he comes in every Thursday night…”
“For the past month or so. Maybe a little more.”
“At about what, ten o’clock?”
“Sometimes a little earlier. And he’s always gone by eleven.”
“He watches a few dancers. He has himself a couch dance…”
“Pays his bar tab and calls it a night.”
“Uneventful.”
“An ideal customer.”
“Now then, as to those couch dances…”
“I’ll get Ariel for you.”
“Not for me. I’m talking about Huston’s.”
“You sure? I could swear I saw something special between you two.”
“Knock it off now.”
“I think I saw love in bloom.”
“Bonnie, please.”
“She could use a nice daddy for that little boy of hers.”
“I’m not interested in being anybody’s daddy. Sugar or otherwise.”
“She played the French horn in high school. She tell you that?”
“Tell me this: What actually transpires inside those rooms?”
“You see those curtains?”
“I do.”
“Can you see what’s behind them?”
“No.”
“Neither can I.”
“Does the eleventh commandment apply behind those curtains?”
“I don’t go there myself, except to vacuum. So I don’t really know.”
“So who would?”
“You, for fifty dollars.”
“Plus tip.”
“You’re a fast learner, DeMarco.”
“Not as fast as you.” With that he drained his glass and set it softly atop the bar. “I need to know who Huston’s regular girl was. She would be young—”
“Nobody here under twenty-one.”
“—or at least she looks very young. Green eyes. Long legs. Maybe even a limp but very subtle, something most people wouldn’t even notice.”
“No limpers here,” Bonnie said. “Green eyes and long legs we’ve got by the bushel. Stay awhile and see for yourself.”
“She keeps herself in shape. Jogs in the park probably.”
“I don’t fraternize with joggers,” she said.
“Could you please be serious for a minute?”
“Look,” she said. “Give me something specific and maybe I can help you.”
“Young, pretty, long legs, and green eyes. That’s not specific enough for you?”
“That’s about as specific as a telephone psychic.”
“Then how about this? Names and addresses of all the girls who work here.”
“Not even if I knew them.”
“You don’t know their names?”
“I don’t take résumés here, okay? Everybody’s an independent contractor. They give me a name, and that’s what I call them. They come and they go. I don’t get personal with them.”
“None of them ever need a little mothering?”
She winced, a momentary thing. “I’m not the mothering type.”
He watched her face for another reaction, but none came.
“I need your help here, Bonnie. Otherwise, I might have to come back again. Maybe interview all the patrons as they come through the door. Maybe just park a patrol car out front.”
She stared at him again. He stared back. Finally she said, “Two names. That’s the best I can do. No phone numbers, because I don’t have any.”
“Real names or working names?”
“As far as I know, they’re real.”