Breuning walked out.
Bud said, 'Who's who?'
'The blonde's Feather Royko. Hey, did you hear the one about the well-hung elephant?'
'What'd you tell them?'
'I told them it was a routine background check on Duke Cathcart. They read the papers, so they weren't surprised. Bud, it's the niggers. They're gonna burn for that Mex ginch, Dudley's just going through this rigamarole 'cause Parker wants a showcase and he's listening to that punk kid Exley with all his highfalut--'
Hard fingers to the chest. 'Inez Soto ain't a ginch, and maybe it ain't the jigs. So you and Carlisle go do some police work.'
Kowtow--Breuning shambled off smoothing his shirt. Bud walked into the box. The whores looked bad: a peroxide blonde, a henna redhead, too much makeup on too many miles.
Bud said, 'So you read the papers this morning.'
Feather Royko said, 'Yeah. Poor Dukey.'
'It don't sound like you're exactly grieving for him.'
'Dukey was Dukey. He was cheap, but he never hit you. He had a thing about chiliburgers, and the Nite Owl had good ones. One chiliburg too many, RIP Dukey.'
'Then you girls buy all that robbery stuff in the papers?'
Cindy Benavides nodded. Feather said, 'Sure. That's what it was, wasn't it? I mean, don't you think so?'
'Probably. What about enemies? Duke have any?'
'No, Dukey was Dukey.'
'How many other girls was he running?'
'Just us. We are the meager remnants of Dukey-poo's stable.'
'I heard Duke ran nine girls once. What happened? Rival pimp stuff?'
'Mister, Dukey was a dreamer. He liked young stuff personally, and he liked to run young stuff. Young stuff gets bored and moves on unless their guy gets mean. Dukey could get mean with other men, but never with females. RIP Dukey.'
'Then Duke must've had something else going. A two-girl string wouldn't cover him.'
Feather picked at her nail polish. 'Dukey was jazzed up on some new business scheme. You see, he always had some kind of scheme going. He was a dreamer. And the schemes made him happy, made him feel like the meager coin Cindy and me turned for him wasn't so bad.'
'Did he give you details?'
'No.'
Cindy had her lipstick out, smearing on another coat. 'Cindy, he tell _you_ anything?'
'No'--a little squeak.
'Nothing about enemies?'
'No.'
'What about girlfriends? Duke have any young stuff going lately?'
Cindy grabbed a tissue, blotted. 'N-no.'
'Feather, you buy that?'
'I guess Dukey wasn't talking up nobody. Can we go now? I mean--'
'Go. There's a cabstand up the street.'
The girls moved out fast; Bud gave them a lead, ran to his car. Up to Sunset across from the cabstand; a two-minute wait. Cindy and Feather walked up.
Separate cabs, different directions. Cindy shot due north on Wilcox, maybe toward home--5814 Yucca. Bud took a shortcut; the cab showed right on time. Cindy walked to a green De Soto, took off westbound. Bud counted to ten, followed.
Up to Highland, the Cahuenga Pass to the Valley, west on Ventura Boulevard. Bud stuck close; Cindy drove middle lane fast. A last-second swerve to the curb by a motel--rooms circling a murky swimming pool.
Bud braked, U-turned, watched. Cindy walked to a left-side room, knocked. A girl--fifteenish, blond--let her in. Young stuff--Duke Cathcart's statch rape type.
Eyeball Surveillance.
Cindy walked out ten minutes later--zoom--a U-turn back toward Hollywood. Bud knocked on the girl's door.
She opened it--teary-eyed. A radio blasted: 'Nite Owl Massacre,' 'Crime of the Southland's Century.' The girl focused in. 'Are you the police?'
Bud nodded. 'Sweetie, how old are you?' No more focus--her eyes went blurry. 'Sweetie, what's your name?'
'Kathy Janeway. Kathy with a 'K.'' Bud closed the door. 'How old are you?' 'Fourteen. Why do men always ask you that?' A prairie twang.
'Where are you from?'
'North Dakota. But if you send me back I'll just run away again.'
'Why?'
'You want it in VistaVision? Duke said lots of guys get their jollies that way.'
'Don't be such a tough cookie, huh? I'm on your side.'
'That's a laugh.'
Bud scoped the room. Panda bears, movie mags, schoolgirl smocks on the dresser. No whore threads, no dope paraphernalia. 'Was Duke nice to you?'
'He didn't make me do it with guys, if that's what you mean.'
'You mean you only did it with him?'
'No, I mean my daddy did it to me and this other guy made me do it with guys, but Duke bought me away from him.'
Pimp intrigue. 'What was the guy's name?'
'No! I won't tell you and you can't make me and I forgot it anyway!'
'Which one of those, sweetie?'
'I don't want to tell!'
'Sssh. So Duke was nice to you?'
'Don't shush me. Duke was a panda bear, all he wanted was to sleep in the same bed with me and play pinochle. Is that so bad?'
'Honey--'
'My daddy was worse! My Uncle Arthur was lots worse!'
'Hush, now, huh?'
'You can't make me!'
Bud took her hands. 'What did Cindy want?'
Kathy pulled away. 'She told me Duke was dead, which any dunce with a radio knows. She told me Duke said that if anything happened to him she should look after me, and she gave me ten dollars. She said the police bothered her. I said ten dollars isn't very much, and she got insulted and yelled at me. And how'd you know Cindy was here?'
'Never mind.'
'The rent here's nine dollars a week and I--'
'I'll get you some more money if you'll--'
'Duke was _never_ that cheap with me!'
'_Kathy, hush now and let me ask you a few questions and maybe we'll get the guys who killed Duke. All right? Huh?_'
A kid's sigh. 'Okay, all right, ask me.'
Bud, soft. 'Cindy said Duke told her to look after you if something happened to him. Do you think he figured something was gonna happen?'
'I don't know. Maybe.'
'Why maybe?'
