"Little birthmark and all?"
"Come on, we went over this a hundred times."
"You went over it a hundred times."
"And hated every minute of it."
"Sure."
"Youknow that, damn it."
"Sure."
"You going to start on me again?"
"I'm sorry."
"You oughta be. All we've been through."
"I said I was sorry."
"Okay."
There was a long silence on the line. "So whattya gonna do till noon tomorrow?"
"Thought I'd go down for a drink, then come back and get some sleep."
"Be careful."
"Oh yeah."
"They know what you look like."
"Don't worry." Another silence.
"Maybe you oughta call me later tonight, okay?"
"Sure."
"Be careful," she said again, and hung up.
CHAPTER 8
"Torpedoman ain't gonna like this," Larry said.
"Who asked you?" Eileen said.
"For a working girl, all you done so far is sit and drink."
"Guess it just ain't my lucky night," Eileen said.
"Whattya talkin' about? I already seen you turn down a dozen guys."
"I'm particular."
"Then you shouldn't be in this dump," Larry said. "Particular ain't for the Canal Zone."
Eileen knew he was only pointing out the obvious: the name of the game was money, and a hooker working a bar wasn't a girl at the Spring Cotillion. You didn't tell a prospective John your card was filled, even if he looked like Godzilla. Larry was already suspicious, and that was dangerous. Get a few more guys giving her the fish eye, and she could easily blow thereal reason she was here.
Sheryl and the frizzled brunette were still out with the blond sailor, but Eileen was ready to bet her shield they'd be back in business the moment they returned. There was no way any enterprising girl could avoid making a buck in here. The bar was in incessant motion, a whorehouse with a liquor license and a transient crowd. Any man who came in alone walked out not five minutes later with a girl on his arm. According to Shanahan, the girls mdash;even some of them on the Canalside meat rack mdash;used either a hot-bed hotel up the street or any one of fifty, sixty rooms for rent in the Zone. They usually paid five bucks for the room, got a kickback from the owner and also a share of the three bucks the John paid for soap and towels. That way, a twenty-dollar trick could net a girl the same twenty when all was said and done. Plus whatever tip a generous John might decide to lay on her for superior performance.
She glanced down the length of the bar to where Annie was sitting in earnest conversation with a little Hispanic guy wearing jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket studded with chrome. Looked like Annie was having the same problem. The only difference was that she could step outside every now and then, make it look like she was drumming up trade on the street. Eileen was glued to the bar. The bar was where the killer had picked up his three previous victims. She tried to catch Annie's eye. They had figured out beforehand that if they wanted to talk they'd do it in the ladies' room, not here in public. Eileen wanted to dope out a scam that would cool Larry's heat.
"Torpedoman's gonna whip your ass," he said.
"You wanna make a little side bet?" Eileen said. "You wanna bet I go home with six bills before the night's over?"
Annie finally looked over at her.
Eye contact.
Brief nod of her head.
Eileen got off the stool and started for the ladies' room. The Hispanic guy sitting next to Annie got off his stool at the same time. Good, Eileen thought, she's ditching him. But the Hispanic walked straight toward her, meeting her halfway down the bar.
"Hey, where you goin', Mama?" he said. Loud voice for a little twerp, Spanish accent you could cut with a machete. Little brown eyes, mustache under his nose, looked like an undernourished biker in his leather jacket.
"Got to visit my grandma," Eileen said.
"You gran'ma can wait," he said.
Behind him, down the bar, Annie was watching them.
Another brief nod.
All right already, Eileen thought. As soon as Ishake this guy.
The guy wasn't about to be shaken. He gripped Eileen's elbow in his right hand, began steering her toward the stool she'd abandoned mdash;"Come on, Mama, we ha' biss'niss to talk abou' " mdash;same loud voice, you could hear him clear across the river, fingers tight on her elbow, plunked her down on the stool mdash;"My name iss Arturo, I been watchin' you, Mama" mdash;and signaled to Larry.
"You want me to wet my pants?" Eileen asked.
"No, no, I sornly don' wann you to do that," he said.