"Please do."
The prim and proper hooker.
But crossed her legs anyway, to show him thigh clear to Cincinnati.
"I'm Linda," she said. "Are you looking for a good time?"
"That depends," he said.
"On what?"
"On what you consider a good time."
"That's entirely up to you."
"I noticed you when I was coming in," he said. "You were leaving with a little Puerto Rican."
"You're very observant," she said.
"You're a beautiful woman, how could I miss you?"
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Howie."
"Howie what?"
"Howie gonna keep 'em down on the farm."
He had them in stitches. Shanahan's words. Kept telling them jokes. A stand-up comic with a knife.
"So what're you interested in, Howie?"
"Let's talk," he said.
"Candy store's open," she said. "You want to know how much the goodies cost?"
"Not right now."
"Just say when, Howie."
He folded his hands on the tabletop. Looked into her eyes.
"How long have you been hooking, Linda?"
"First time tonight," she said. "In fact, I'm a virgin."
Not a smile. Not even thehint of a smile. Some stand-up comic. Just sat there looking into her eyes, big hands folded on the table.
"How old are you?"
"You should never ask a woman her age, Howie."
"Early thirties, in there?"
"Who knows?" she said, and rolled her eyes.
"What's your real name?"
"What's yours?"
"I told you. Howie."
"But you didn't tell me Howie what."
"Howie Cantrell," he said.
"Eileen Burke," she said.
The name would mean nothing to him. If he was their man, he'd learn soon enough who Eileen Burke was. If he was looking for action, her name wouldn't mean beans to him.
"Why are you using Linda?" he asked.
"I hate the name Eileen," she said. Which wasn't true. She'd always thought the name Eileen was perfect for the person she was. "Linda sounds more glamorous."
"You're glamorous enough," he said, "you don't need a phony name. May I call you Eileen?"
"You can call me Lassie if you like."
Still no smile. Totally devoid of a sense of humor. So where was the comedian? Flat, steel-gray eyes reflecting nothing. But were they the eyes of a triple murderer?
"So where're you from, Howie?"
"I'll ask the questions," he said.
"Now you sound like a cop."
"I used to be one."
Bullshit, she thought.
"Oh?" she said. "Where?"
"Philadelphia," he said. "Do you see that girl sitting at the bar?"
"Which one?" Eileen asked.
"In the black skirt. With the short dark hair."
He was indicating Annie.
"What about her?"
"I think she's a cop," he said.
Eileen burst out laughing.
"Jenny?" she said. "You've got to be kidding."
"You know her?"
"She's been hooking since she was thirteen. Jenny a cop? Wait'll I tell her!"
"I already told her."
"Mister, let me tellyou something about hookers and cops, okay?"
"I know all about hookers and cops."
"Right, you're a cop yourself."
"Usedto be one," he said. "I can always tell a cop."
"Have it your way," she said. "Jenny's a cop, you're a cop, I'm a cop, when you're in love the whole world's a cop."
"You don't believe I used to be a cop, do you?"
"Howie, I'll believe anything you tell me. You tell me you used to be a Presbyterian minister, I'll believe you. An astronaut, a spy, a hellip;"