The curvy blonde in hot-pink spandex tottered on stiletto heels as she worked her corner. Her eyes, heavily painted with a sunburst of colors, kept a sharp watch on her associates, those spangled shadows of the night. There was a great deal of laughter on the street. After all, it was springtime in New York. But beneath the laughter there was a flat sheen of boredom that no amount of glitter or sex could disguise.
For these ladies, business was business.
After popping in some fresh gum, she adjusted the large canvas bag on her bare shoulder. Thank God it was warm, she thought. It would be hell to strut around half-dressed if the weather was ugly.
A gorgeous black woman in red leather that barely covered the essentials languidly lit a cigarette and cocked her hip. âCome on, baby,â she said to no one in particular, in a voice husky from the smoke she exhaled. âWanna have some fun?â
Some did, Bess noted, her eyes skimming the block. Some didnât. All in all, she thought, business was pretty brisk on this spring night. Sheâd observed several transactions, and the varied ways they were contracted. It was too bad boredom was the byword here. Boredom, and a defiant kind of hopelessness.
âYou talking to yourself, honey?â
âHuh?â Bess blinked up into the shrewd eyes of the black goddess in red leather who had strolled over. âWas I?â
âYouâre new?â Studying Bess, she blew out smoke. âWhoâs your man?â
âMy⦠I donât have one.â
âDonât have one?â The woman arched her ruthlessly plucked brows and sneered. âGirl, you canât work this street without a man.â
âThatâs what Iâm doing.â Since she didnât have a cigarette, Bess blew a bubble with her gum. Then snapped it.
âBobby or Big Ed find out, theyâre going to mess you up.â She shrugged. After all, it wasnât her problem.
âFree country.â
âGirl, ainât nothing free.â With a laugh, she ran a hand down her slick, leather-covered hip. âNothing at all.â She flicked her cigarette into the street, where it bounced off the rear fender of a cab.
There were dozens of questions on Bessâs lips. It was in her nature to ask them, but she remembered that she had to go slow. âSo whoâs your man?â
âBobby.â With her lips pursed, the woman skimmed her gaze up and down Bess. âHeâd take you on. A little skinny through the butt, but youâd do. You need protection when you work the streets.â And she could use the extra money Bobby would pass her way if she brought him a new girl.
âNobody protected the two girls who got murdered last month.â
The black womanâs eyes flickered. Bess considered herself an excellent judge of emotion, and she saw grief, regret and sorrow before the eyes hardened again. âYou a cop?â
Bessâs mouth fell open before she laughed. That was a good one, she thought. Sort of flattering. âNo, Iâm not a cop. Iâm just trying to make a living. Did you know either of them? The women who were killed?â
âWe donât like questions around here.â The woman tilted her head. âIf youâre trying to make a living, letâs see you do it.â
Bess felt a quick ripple of unease. Not only was the woman gorgeous, she was big. Big and suspicious. Both qualities were going to make it difficult for Bess to hang back on the fringes and observe. But she considered herself an agile thinker and a quick study. After all, she reminded herself, sheâd come here tonight to do business.
âSure.â Turning, she strutted slowly along the sidewalk. Her hipsâand she didnât for a minute believe that her butt was skinnyâswayed seductively.
Maybe her throat was a little dry. Maybe her heart was pounding a bit too quickly. But Bess McNee took a great deal of pride in her work.
She spotted the two men half a block away and licked her lips. The one on the left, the dark one, looked very promising.
âLook, rookie, the ideaâs to take one, maybe two.â Alex scanned the sidewalk ahead. Hookers, drunks, junkies and those unfortunate enough to have to pass through them to get home. âMy snitch says that the tall black oneâRosalieâknew both the victims.â
âSo why donât we just pick her up and take her in for questioning?â Judd Malloy was anxious for action. His detectiveâs shield was only forty-eight hours old. And he was working with Alexi Stanislaski, a cop who had a reputation for moving quickly and getting the job done. âBetter yet, why donât we go roust her pimp?â