“Which was often?”
“Less so as time went on,” Mrs. Teitler said. “You get any kicks out of asking these questions?”
“Depends on the answers,” Jesse said. “Can you give me the name of the private detective you hired?”
“My attorney hired him. Mark Hillenbrand on State Street. Hillenbrand and Doherty.”
Jesse wrote it down in his little notebook. He smiled at her.
“How’s the second marriage?” he said.
She shook her head.
“Two-time loser,” she said. “You like older women?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t tell,” she said. “Don’t swell. Grateful as hell.”
“I’ve heard that,” Jesse said.
Chapter Fifty-five
Dick Pettler had an office over a sandwich shop on Broad Street, across the street from a Japanese restaurant. The sign on his office door read R. J. PETTLER, INQUIRIES. Jesse went in.
Pettler was tall and bony with rimless glasses.
“Mark Hillenbrand called me,” Pettler said. “Told me you’d be coming by.”
“You did the snoop work on Norman Shaw’s divorce from Felicia Feinman,” Jesse said.
Pettler smiled, his teeth gleaming.
“I like to call it discreet inquiry,” he said.
“But you did it?”
“Sure.”
“You got affidavits from several hookers,” Jesse said.
“I could have gotten them from a hundred,” Pettler said.
“How old were they?”
Pettler rocked back in his swivel chair and looked thoughtfully at Jesse.
“Pretty good question,” he said.
Jesse nodded.
“They were babies,” Pettler said. “I can’t guarantee how old, but they all looked about thirteen.”
“He have an MO?” Jesse said.
“Sure. He’d meet them in a motel, sometimes four, five nights a week. Couple times he had more than one in the same night.”
“Same motel?”
“Usually.”
“Boundary Suites,” Jesse said.
“Hey,” Pettler said, “pretty good. Yeah. Boundary Suites right there in your neighborhood.”
“He take them there?”
Pettler shook his head.
“Nope. When he got there, with me behind him, he’d go straight to the motel room. You know Boundary Suites?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you know it’s a lovers’ hideaway,” Pettler said. “Drive up to the door of the room. Go right in. No lobby to go through. Nobody to see you.”
“You know how he set it up?” Jesse said.
“Nope. I assume by phone.”
“You know who supplied them?”
“Nope. Not my job.”
“The girls always very young?” Jesse said.
“Everyone I saw.”
“If I needed you in court, could you prove what you’re saying?”
“Sure. I got photos. You want to see?”
Pettler got up and went to the gray metal file cabinet to the left of his window. He took out a folder and
