The cousins stared at each other. “Hookers.” Judith formed
the word silently. “Look at this—James L. blah-blah, assistant
vice present, blah-blah, Plymouth Hotel, blah-blah, Asian or
Hispanic, plumpish, into bondage. Here’s one that says,
African-American dressed as Little Miss Muffet, and right
below it is some guy who wants a tall Scandinavian wheatthrasher.”
Renie started to giggle. “Somebody was running a hooker
ring out of OTIOSE? That’s rich!”
Judith wasn’t laughing. “Andrea?” She wrinkled her nose.
“It’s possible, I suppose. In another life, she could have been
a madam.”
“No.” Renie grew serious. “Not Andrea, not any of these
top level female executives. They wouldn’t exploit other
women. I know I said that the sisterhood is a myth, but there
“So this was planted along with Barry’s stuff?” Judith was
puzzled.
“Maybe.” Renie, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed,
rocked back and forth. “Or Andrea found it on the coffee
table where we left it and was going to take somebody to
task.”
Judith leafed through the remaining four pages in the
folder. There were more names and descriptions, similar to
the ones they’d originally thought belonged to race horses.
“Bronze Beauty—long-legged, aloof, can dominate”;
“Crinkles—nicely padded, fun-loving, extensive costume
wardrobe, wigs, undergarments, etc.”; “Frangipani—exotic,
erotic, no funny stuff.”
The cousins, however, didn’t recognize any of the supposed clients’ names. They all appeared to be from out of
town, mostly from the officer corps, and almost exclusively
connected to the communications business.
“Who?” Judith demanded, handing the folder back to
Renie.
“In this bunch? I could only guess, which would get me
nowhere, because I wouldn’t put it past any of the men.”
Renie hesitated before putting the folder back into the
briefcase. “Evidence? Or not?”
Judith considered. “That folder seems to have a life of its
own. Let’s leave it and see what happens to it next. As long
as we know where it is now, maybe we can learn something
if it turns up somewhere else.”
Renie complied. “I might exclude Killegrew,” she said as
they headed back into the hall. “He wouldn’t dare dirty his
hands with this sort of thing.”
“He must know about it,” Judith said as they approached
Andrea’s door.
“Maybe not,” said Renie. “Maybe that was Andrea’s fatal
mistake. Maybe Frank Killegrew was about to find out.”
