“So, man, what you think?” Tito asked the heavyset, jowly man who sat on the opposite side of the booth. “That worth it?”
Detective Spooner shrugged. “She’s a nice-looking little piece,” he said as he looked over the pictures of a pretty, wholesome-looking blonde. She had short, straight blonde hair that didn’t quite reach to her shoulders, and a face that somehow made him think of the Midwest. From the pictures, he couldn’t tell what color her eyes were. They’d all been taken from a little too far away, and the lighting was a little too dim.
“Oh, man,” Tito chuckled. “Them pictures don’t do her justice. She’s got these nice, big tits and a nice, round little ass. But don’t you go thinkin’ she’s fresh off the farm. I don’t know where she’s from, but I can tell you that underneath she’s an ice-cold bitch.”
“And what’s her name again?”
“Calls herself Krissy,” Tito replied. “I never asked her for her last name. ‘Long as we had a business relationship it didn’t matter. Now it does, so I dug up some stuff on her.”
“So what changed between you?” Detective Spooner put the photos in a pile and looked at Tito.
“Told you, she’s an ice-cold bitch,” Tito said. “Last few times she came in here, she was packin’ an attitude. Told me I’d shorted her on somethin’, and I better make it good.”
“Or?”
“Dunno,” Tito shrugged. “But I don’t need no little blonde puta comin’ in here tellin’ me what to do. I offered to take her on more’n once, put ‘er on my payroll. She keeps turnin’ me down, like I’m not good enough for her. We done some business in the past, but it ain’t like she’s the only talent out there. She’s replaceable. It’s time for a change.” He gestured with one hand. “So, I figure, why not do you a little favor and toss the bitch your way? I know you got ways of makin’ her just disappear quietly.”
“Maybe,” Spooner grunted. “She got anybody who’ll miss her?”
“No, man,” Tito answered confidently. “I had her checked out ‘fore I decided to call you. She lives by herself, no family. She keeps pretty much to herself, so no real friends. And I know why she’s got no boyfriend. She likes girls. Picks ’em up at homeless shelters when she’s feelin’ itchy. They never stay long. She must do somethin’ that drives ’em away sooner or later.”
“What does she do to pay the bills?”
“Ah,” Tito chuckled nastily. “She does modelin’ work from time to time. It’s all legit, and she won’t do any nudity. She works conventions sometimes. You know, wearin’ a costume and workin’ the floor. That’s enough to pay the rent, I guess, and she don’t own a car. But I know she’s makin’ nice money besides that.”
“What?” Spooner looked interested. “She a pro?” That piqued his interest as a vice cop.
Tito laughed. “No, man,” he shook his head. “Not really. I told you, she likes girls. It ain’t like she swings both ways, neither, ’cause I kinda get the vibe that way down deep she hates men. But she knows how to get ’em droolin’ over her. I know you guys get complaints pretty regular from out-of-towners, guys who let their dicks do their thinkin’ and wind up drugged and rolled by some woman.”
“Yeah,” Spooner nodded cautiously. “We always get complaints like that. So what?”
“So I think this little bitch is doin’ a lot of that kinda work. Pretty sure she goes after the richer guys too, married ones who don’t file a complaint ’cause they can’t afford the attention.”
“And how do you know that?” Spooner leaned forward. Tito was a good contact, and so far he’d been very profitable to deal with, but it never hurt to have a little extra leverage. But Tito acted unconcerned.
“I got my sources,” he shrugged. “Just like you got yours.”
Detective Spooner leaned back in the booth and looked at the pictures spread out on the table in front of him. She was a pretty little thing, no doubt about that. He guessed she was somewhere in her early twenties, which was pushing the upper edge of the age limit for female merchandise, but it wasn’t pushing it too hard. But while Tito had waxed eloquent…at least by his standards…about her body, he’d have to get a look at her himself to decide if she was worth it.
“What’s in it for you?” Spooner asked at last.
“Hey, man,” Tito shrugged and spread his hands. “Just doin’ my civic duty.”
“I heard that before,” Spooner grunted.
“Man, what the fuck do you care what’s in it for me?” Tito snapped. “I don’t give a shit what’s in it for you, do I? We’re just two friends doin’ each other a favor here.”
“We ain’t friends, Tito,” Spooner grunted.
“Okay,” Tito grinned nastily. “What are we, then? No, never mind. You interested or not?”
“You’re sure she’s been rolling rich guys from out of town?”
“My sources say she is,” Tito shrugged. “You want to make sure, you check the bitch out yourself. Got her name ‘n’ address on the back of one of them pictures.”
“All right,” Spooner nodded. He gathered up the photos. “We’ll check her out. If she is what you say she is, we’ll take care of it.” He levered his bulk up out of the booth and lumbered away.
It was almost a relief to him to get out of the close, warm, liquor-scented air of Tito’s place and back into the street. It was dark now, and the air had a faint chill to it that reminded him of winter. He inhaled deeply once before turning and trundling towards the parking lot where his partner was waiting in her minivan. Somehow, cops on TV shows always found a parking space right in front of the place they wanted to go. It was different in real life, and even though there had been a few spaces closer to the bar than the parking lot, Palmieri had a thing about parking her shiny new car on the street, especially in this neighborhood. She also had a thing about meeting Tito in person. She’d hated him on sight, and he had reciprocated, though there was no apparent reason for their instant mutual dislike.