“The vic worked this block. My best take is the killer hired her. I want a timeline, and whatever else I can get out of her coworkers. Maybe, jackpot, description of the killer.”
She’d scanned their IDs, so even with the red wig with blue spikes, she recognized Dana Chumbley, and Monique Varr in her crotch-skimming skirt and spiral-curl blond wig.
She spotted Zola Messner across the street, one hand on the hip of a dress that looked more like body paint. Since she didn’t see Diego Quint, Eve figured he either hadn’t clocked in yet or was already with a customer.
Chumbley and Varr gave each other some space, but stood close enough to toss around some conversation, some comments.
Chumbley eye-fucked Roarke, and went: “Mmm-mmm! Baby doll, whatever you want, twenty percent off. Twenty-five if you lose No-Tits.”
“That’s Lieutenant No-Tits,” Eve said as she pulled out her badge.
“Well, shit. What you want to roust me for? Got my license right here. I’m working, and cops scare the johns away.”
“Also working. Leesa Culver?”
“Who?”
Eve took out her ’link, brought up the ID shot.
“Oh, Pissy-Ass. What about her?”
“She’s dead.”
“That shit happens.”
“Was she working last night?”
Varr walked over on glossy black shoes with two-inch platforms andfive-inch heels. “You said Pissy-Ass is dead? No shit? Did somebody get tired of her pissy-ass ways and bash her one?”
“No. Somebody strangled her. Was she on the stroll last night?”
“Yeah, yeah.” That came from Chumbley with a shrug.
“My associate and I, we make it clear she stays that end of the block. Always trying to horn in on our customers, so we make that clear.”
“Try to be friendly at first, right?” Chumbley added. “We’re all just making a living here. She’s talking how she’s better than the street, better than us, and she’s gonna make high-class in no time. Pissy-ass bitch.”
“Did you see her pick up a customer? Leave the block with him?”
“Can’t say I did. She took a couple into the flop right down there. We got a deal with the manager.”
“What time did you see her?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“She took that fat guy in, remember, Starlight?” Varr pursed her full red lips. “It was like eleven because I was heading out when she was heading in.”
“Sure, sure, Fatso. He’s a once- or twice-a-week regular of hers. Man, she can have him. He’s got a gut on him! You’d have to work ten minutes to get past it to give him a BJ. No way he’d strangle her. Besides, the manager would’ve let us know if he found a dead one in there.”
“She came back to the street?”
Now Chumbley frowned. “Yeah, yeah. She was back when I took one in later. Look, you’re costing us money here.”
Before Eve could stop him, Roarke pulled out two fifties.
“Now she’s not, is she then?”
“Ooh, I’m a sucker for an accent. Baby doll, the offer still stands.”
