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Amanda remembered something Pete had said in the morgue. “Did you urinate on yourself?”
“I ain’t piss myself.” He tilted up his chin defensively. “Who told you that?”
Amanda felt a smug smile on her lips. “You just did.”
He stared at the wall.
“The apartment at Techwood. That’s Kitty’s, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer.
“I can stay here all day,” she told him, and in that moment, Amanda could see herself doing just that. Bubba Keller would have to drag her from this room. She would sit here staring down this disgusting pimp for as long as it took. “The apartment at Techwood belonged to Kitty, did it not?”
Juice seemed to understand her resolve. “That’s all’a them girls’. She charge it out. Tryin’ to pimp ’em space. I put a stop to that.”
Amanda couldn’t imagine another woman charging rent to whores, but in the last few days, her worldview had expanded considerably. “Tell me about Hank Bennett.”
“What he tell you?”
“You tell me about him.”
“Fool came onto my corner trying to order me around.” His fist was clenched when he banged it on the table. “Man need to step back.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t know, bitch. I ain’t keep a calendar.”
Amanda made a slash mark on the paper. If she had a dollar for every time a man had called her “bitch” lately, she could retire. “Did Hank Bennett see you before or after Lucy disappeared?”
His tongue darted out as he thought it over. “Before. Yeah, before. Bitch up and gone a week, two week later. I figure he took her. Lucy talk about him all the time.”
Amanda’s dictation was rusty, but it came back to her as she scribbled notes across the page. “So, Hank Bennett approached you before Lucy disappeared?” Another lie they’d caught the lawyer in. “What did he want?”
“Wanted to tell me my bidness. Brother better be glad I didn’t beat down his skinny white ass.”
“What business?”
“Told me cut Kitty loose. Said he’d pass me some bills if I stop givin’ her the Boy.”
Amanda was sure she’d heard wrong. “Kitty? You mean Lucy.”
“Naw, bitch. It was Kitty he wanted to talk about. Dude had a hard-on for her.”
“Why would Hank Bennett care about Kitty?”
He shrugged his shoulders, but still answered, “Her daddy some big-time lawyer. Disowned the bitch when he found out she was sippin’ some Juice.” He gave her a lurid grin, making sure she got his meaning. “She got another sister somewhere. She the good one. Kitty always been bad.”
“Kitty’s father is Andrew Treadwell.”
He nodded. “You finally gettin’ it, bitch. Ain’t the mayor tell you this already?”
Amanda flipped back through her notes. “Hank Bennett offered you money to stop giving Kitty heroin.”
“Why you keep repeatin’ everything I say?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense,” Amanda admitted. “Hank Bennett comes to you about Kitty. He doesn’t ask about his sister? Ask to see her?” Juice shook his head. “He’s not worried about Lucy?” Again, Juice shook his head. “And, a week later, Lucy disappeared?”
“Yeah, an’ about a week after—” He snapped his fingers. “Kitty gone.”
Amanda remembered Jane’s words. “Just disappeared.”
“Thass right.”
“What about Mary?”
He snorted. “Bitch gone, too. ’Bout two, three months later. Ain’t been a while since I lose that many girls at a go. Usually some other pimp tryin’ to poach me off.”
“You had three girls disappear in as many months.” Amanda wasn’t asking him a question. She was trying to get her head around what had happened. “Did you ever see Lucy with a letter from her brother?”
He gave a curt nod. “Had it in her purse.”
“Can you read?”
“Bitch, I ain’t ignert.”
Amanda waited.
“Some bullshit ’bout how he missed her when I knowed that ain’t the truth. Said he wanted to meet with her.” Juice thumped the table with his fingers. “Shee-it, brother wanna see her, he coulda spent five mo’ minutes on my corner. I tole him she be right there.”
Amanda scribbled down his words as she tried to think through her next question. “Was there anyone hanging around who was …” “Scary” wasn’t the right word for a man like Juice. “Who wasn’t right? Someone who was dangerous or violent? Someone you wouldn’t trust with your girls?”
“Bitch, I charge extry for that.” He smiled. One of his front teeth was missing. The gum was raw. “They some weird motherfuckers out there.” He cleared his throat. “ ’Scuse me.”
Amanda nodded at the apology. “What weird people?”
“They’s a dude likes to fist ’em.” He pumped his fist in the air. Amanda guessed he meant punching the girls. “They’s one use a knife, but he all right. He never stick nobody. Least not with the blade.”
“Anyone else?”
“They’s that tall dude runs the soup kitchen.”
“I’ve heard about him.”
“He real tight with the dude at the mission.”
So, Trey Callahan had lied to them, too.
“Dude always comin’ ’round at night, trying to preach to my gals.”
“The man from the soup kitchen?” Juice nodded. “Were the girls ever afraid of him?”
“Shit. They ain’t afraid’a nothin’ when I’m around. That’s my job, bitch.”
She made yet another slash on the paper. “This man from the church came at night to your street corner and tried to preach to Lucy and Kitty and—”
“Nah, they gone by then. Mary, too.” He sat up in his chair. “Lookit, that salvation shit okay during the day, but don’t come shootin’ off ’bout Jesus while I’m tryin’ to do my bidness. You feel me?”
“I do.” Amanda leaned forward. “Tell me who killed Jane Delray.”
“You get me outta here?”
Amanda was getting good at this game, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Juice obviously read her expression.
“Shit.” He slumped back in his chair. “You cain’t do nothin’, bitch.”
“If I could find someone from City Hall to talk to you, could you tell him who killed Jane?”
“Another slit?”
“No, a man. Someone in charge.” Amanda didn’t know anyone downtown except for a bunch of secretaries. Still, she kept her shoulders straight, put some threat into her tone. “But you have to tell him something meaningful. You have to give him a name that can be followed up on. Otherwise, that deal you made with Butch and Landry goes out the window. I promise you, the state will bring back the death penalty. By the time it goes to the Supreme Court, you’ll be dead.”
There was a tapping sound. His leg had started moving up and down. The heel of his patent leather shoe clicked against the concrete. “I gotta deal. Done made my confession.”
