Lou Alvarez, calling his buddy Danny Ortiz in Narcotics, asking him to run on over here, hit on the decoy, take her out of the joint to preserve her credibility.
"You saved my life," Eileen said.
Bit of an exaggeration, but at least he'd saved her cover.
"So you wanna neck or anything?" Ortiz said. "Pass the time?"
"That's the best offer I've had all night," she said. "But I gotta get back in there."
Ortiz looked at her.
"Our man just walked in," she said.
His size was intimidating. He filled the stool, filled the bar, seemed to fill the entire room. Sitting next to him, Annie was scared. If this was the guy hellip;
"So what's your name?" she asked.
"What's yours?"
"Jenny," she said.
"I'll bet."
Deep voice rumbling up out of his barrel chest.
"Well," she said, "my straight handle is Antoinette Le Fevrier, but who'll believe that on a hooker?"
"Oh, is that what you are?" he asked.
Voice almost toneless. Bored attitude. Looking in the mirror, checking out the other girls in the place even as he talked to her.
"No, I'm a famous brain surgeon," Annie said, and smiled.
He did not smile back. Turned to look at her. Eyes the color of steel. A chill ran up her spine. Where the hell was Shanahan?
"You still didn't tell me your name," she said.
"Howie," he said.
Sounded square enough to be true.
"Howie what?"
"Howie's enough," he said, and folded his hands on the table-top. No tattoo on either one of them. Was he, or wasn't he? "So what you do is make love to strangers, huh?" he said. "For money."
She didn't want this guy to ask her outside. Not with only the .38 in her bag and Shanahan nowhere in sight.
"That's my job. You interested?"
"You're not my type," he said.
"Oh? And what's your type?" she asked. Keep him talking. Keep him interested till Eileen walked back in. And if Eileendidn't walk in soon, then talk him into takingher outside to make his move. If Shanahan was anywhere around, he'd be tracking both of them.
"I like them younger," he said. "And fresher."
"Well, what you see is what you get," she said.
"You seem too far gone."
"Uh-huh," she said, "practically ancient." One of the dead girls had been sixteen. The others were in their twenties. Keep him here, she thought. Don't let him wander off to any of the younger girls in here, or they'll drift away together and he'll score another one tonight.
"I mean, what can I tell you?" she said. "I'm not a teenager, but I'm pretty good for an old lady."
He turned to look at her again.
No smile.
Christ, he was chilling.
"Really?" he said.
"Really."
Come-on look in her eyes. She licked her lips. But she had only the .38 in her bag. No backup artillery. And Shanahan God knew where. Ortiz heading back home soon as he cleared Eileen, wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, or so it would appear to Larry.
"Ten for a handjob," she said, "how about it? Twenty for a blowjob, thirty if you want the pearly gates."
"My, my," he said. "You really are a seasoned pro, aren't you?"
"Exactly what I am," she said. "How about it?"
"No, you're too far gone," he said.
Eyes on the mirror again. The blonde who'd been talking with Eileen earlier was back now, together with her frizzied brunette friend. Both of them young and looking for more action. His eyes checked them out. Stick with me, pal, she thought. Here's where the action is.
"Are you a cop?" he asked without even looking at her.
Mind-reader, she thought.
"Sure," she said. "Are you a cop, too?"
"I used to be," he said.
Oh, shit, she thought. A renegade. Or a malcontent.
"I can always tell a cop," he said.
"You wanna see my badge?" she said.
Deliberately using the word badge. A cop called it a shield.
"Are you with Vice?" he asked.
"Oh, man,am I," she said. "Clear down to my tonsils."
"I used to be with Vice," he said.