the Buick’s cheap plastic dash.
‘Posed as a john, probably.’
‘Dangerous for the kids, isn’t it?’ said Harper. ‘Given that she wanted to clean up her act. She would’ve returned home if she could have. The 7-Eleven was a short walk. If she’s going to jump in a car with a trick, she’s going to make sure someone is with the kids, and she’d thrown Carl out.’
‘Maybe,’ said Kasper, nodding to some tune in his head.
‘If she’s not going to get in with a john, either someone took her by force, or maybe she knew him.’
‘That’s a big jump, Tom. You got any evidence on that piece of bread or you just going to eat that big surmise sandwich all by itself?’
‘I’m just casting around, Eddie.’
‘We’ve taken one big fucking leap from a walk home to a known associate.’
‘Hey, that ain’t such a big leap.’
The sedan drew up outside the worn-out 7-Eleven store. An old white van was parked right across the kerb. ‘Parks like you do, Eddie.’
‘Sure does, but I got a shield says I got a right to do it.’
Graffiti was scrawled across the metal shutters, tagged by hundreds of young artists. In the centre was a cartoon of a half-naked blonde, winking. The legend on her panties read The only Bush you can rely on.
The detectives approached the store. The door jangled. A small intense-looking guy in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants was sitting on a box of tinned peaches, pricing some tubes of syrup. A big guy in a red top was standing at the counter counting coins.
‘How you doing, bro?’ said Kasper. ‘You in charge here?’
The big guy shook his head. ‘I ain’t in charge. Mr Marconi is the man.’ He pointed at the guy in the Hawaiian.
‘Mr Marconi?’ called Eddie.
The short man stood up and looked Eddie up and down. ‘What the fuck do you want — fashion advice?’
Kasper smiled. ‘Calm down, feller. We’re cops. Just want to ask a question or two.’
At the mention of cops, Mo shivered and stepped back from the counter. They had found him out once before, all those years ago. But he had been careful this time. He edged backwards as Benny Marconi gave the two cops a wide sardonic smile. ‘Just what I fucking need, a couple of New York’s finest.’
Kasper laughed and turned to Harper. ‘See, he likes us.’
Harper didn’t smile. ‘Sorry to bother you, sir. Can I ask you a couple of questions?’
‘Sure. What else do I have to do? This is my store — you get it?’
‘We get it, Mr Marconi,’ said Harper. ‘Listen, we’re investigating the disappearance of a woman by the name of Lottie Bixley. She was on her way to this store around Thanksgiving, early morning. Do you work Thursday nights?’
Benny nodded sarcastically. ‘Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.’
‘Well, maybe you can help us. Have you seen this hooker around and about?’ Tom Harper handed him the photograph of Lottie Bixley. It showed a smiling woman about 110 pounds, blue eyes, aged eighteen — beautiful.
Benny looked at the photograph. The detectives waited. He continued to look. ‘Pretty girl. It’s a fucking shame,’ said Benny, handing the photograph back.
‘Did she come and buy anything?’ Kasper went in so close that Benny could smell his breath.
‘Back off and I might give you something. Anyway, the answer’s no. I never saw the girl. Or maybe I did. I see girls like that all the time. I got nothing to say.’
‘How about the big guy?’ said Harper.
‘Try him. He’s slow, but if he saw her he’ll remember all right.’
Tom Harper walked across to the big guy. Redtop was visibly shaking and standing with his back hard against the wall. ‘Hey there, no need to worry. What’s your name?’
‘Mo.’
‘Okay, Mo, I just want to show you a picture.’ He handed him the photograph he’d taken from Lottie’s brother.
Mo looked at the photograph. The detectives waited. Mo continued to look. Harper looked at the suitcase beside the till. It was a large brown leather case. ‘What’s the case for?’ he asked.
‘Laundry,’ said Mo.
‘Do you know her?’ said Harper.
‘Pretty,’ said Mo, handing the photograph back.
Kasper went in close and put an arm round the big guy. ‘Did she come and buy anything?’
‘Sure, yeah, that’s right. She came in one night. Don’t know what day it was. Nearly two a.m. We’re a 7- Eleven, but we never shut.’
‘You got a good memory there.’
‘Sure. She bought a box of Viceroy Kings.’
‘Anything else?’
‘A box of Viceroy Kings. She gave me a five-dollar bill.’
‘What was she wearing?’ asked Harper.
‘Pink dress. White shoes.’
‘She say anything to you, big guy? Mention anyone following her?’
Mo shook his head.
‘She just left?’
Mo nodded.
‘Think some more, Mo. Did she have anyone with her?’
Mo shook his head. Benny appeared by his side. ‘Are you this slow on the uptake all the fucking time, gentlemen? She bought cigarettes and left. What more do you want? Now let this guy earn his living.’
‘Just one more thing,’ said Harper. ‘Is that your van outside blocking half the sidewalk, the one with MARCONI all along the side?’
‘Hey, you going to ticket me? The fucking axle broke.’
‘Get it off the sidewalk or I’ll have it towed.’
‘Tow the thing, you’ll be doing me a favour.’
It was all they were going to get. So they knew she got the cigarettes, left the store alive and headed home. And then, in the five-minute walk, something happened to her and she ended up four days later in a dumpster.
Eddie looked across at Harper. ‘What next, boss? You think we should take the big guy in for questioning? Not that we’d get much, by the looks of him.’
‘You should, but it’s not my call any more. You back on duty tomorrow?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Keep me posted, will you? Anything come up, I’d like to know.’
‘What about you?’
‘Missing persons have a database and she might have been logged. I want to check it out. I’ll catch up tomorrow. And Eddie.’
‘Yeah, man?’
‘Thanks.’
Chapter Sixty
Marty Fox’s Suite
November 28, 11.30 a.m.
There were about 70 million hits for the word ‘Viagra’. Marty Fox raised an eyebrow. Thank shit, I’m not alone, he thought. It was terrible news that his stresses since the last meeting with Nick had hit the bedroom. But there were different approaches to problems in life: one was to face them head-on and talk to someone, the other
