pitch in our money to get a disposable one sometimes. We'd take turns
carrying it around until the film was gone. It would take awhile for
them to actually get developed, since no one ever had enough money. But
I took these in last week.'
She handed the pictures to me one by one, flipping through most of them
quickly, explaining that she hadn't taken them and didn't know most of
the people in them. I tried not to reveal my shock. One group of
pictures showed girls in their bras and panties frolicking on the lap
of a hard-bodied shirtless man with a tattoo of the Tasmanian Devil on
his right pec. The photographs didn't reveal his face, but he was
obviously an adult, and, from the looks of things, he was about as
carnivorous as the notoriously frenzied cartoon character emblazoned on
his chest.
'Those were taken when someone else had the camera,' Kendra said, by
way of explanation.
Kendra seemed to have an eye for photography. When she finally got to
the three pictures she had taken, I could see that she'd managed to
capture a youthful, playful side of these girls that was nowhere to be
seen in the other photos. Three of them were sitting outside in
Pioneer Square, making funny faces and forming peace signs with their
fingers over each other's heads.
'That's my friend Haley,' Kendra said, pointing to an attractive
teenage girl who was crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue at
the camera. Of Kendra's friends, she looked the most like a
prostitute. I recognized her from the Tasmanian Devil pictures.
'Kendra, would you mind if I borrowed these pictures?' I sensed that
she wanted an explanation. 'Chuck and I work with a man named Tommy
Garcia. He's been trying to figure out who's been making girls like
Haley and your other friends give them a portion of their money.'
After some negotiation, we decided that she'd hang on to the three
pictures of her friends and I'd take the rest to Garcia.
When Kendra went to the kitchen to throw out the empty Happy Meal box,
Chuck pulled me aside.
'I was thinking about the investigation while you two were talking.
Kendra told Ray and Jack she'd know the place those guys drove her to
if she saw it, but they never took her out. Probably thought it was
too much of a long shot. But I want to drive her around a little over
there and see if she recognizes anything. We can canvass for
witnesses. Maybe someone called in a suspicious car or something. You
never know.'
'Sure, sounds good.' I was surprised that he wanted my input. 'You
don't need my permission to do stuff like that.'
He squinted in mock disbelief. 'Don't flatter yourself, Kincaid. I
need you to drive us.'
It was my turn to feign misgivings. 'Something wrong with that ride of
yours? Since when do you need me to schlep you around?'
'Why do you always have to bag on my car? You have to admit, it's
pretty sweet.'
Chuck loved cars. As long as I'd known him, he had always driven some
old car that he had poured his heart, soul, and wallet into to fix. For
the last few years, it had been a magnificent ruby-red 1967 Jaguar
convertible.
'You know I love that car. I just think it would look a lot better
around someone else. Me, for example.'
'In your dreams, Kincaid.'
'So if I can't have your car, what do you need me and my little Jetta
for?'
'Department GO says we don't put civilians in our personal vehicles
while we're on the job. I don't want to go all the way downtown for a
duty car. Let's just take yours.'
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter after eight. 'And what makes
you think the DA's office doesn't have a general order saying the same
thing?'
'Because you guys don't need GO's. Only reason cops have them is to
cover our asses now that police are getting sued left and right after
Rodney King and Abner Louima. You lawyers are so fucking political,
you can CYA without any stupid policies.'
'Nice language. You kiss your mother with that mouth?'
'No, but I don't remember you having any problems with it.'
'Knock it off, or you and that little smirk can drive to Texas alone
for all I care.'
'Leave the tough act for the courthouse. You forget how well I know
you. We both know you care, so fish out the keys to that tin can of
yours so we can go to work.'
Once again, I was left yearning for the perfect zinger. I settled for
