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Instead of the slickly handsome sex expert, the pretty blond doctor he married came on the ’link. “Hi, Dallas.”
“Hey, Louise. I thought I tagged Charles.”
“You did. His ’link was here on the counter and he’s making me breakfast.”
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“No problem. And his hands are free again. We’re looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, seeing everyone. Here’s Charles.”
“Morning, Lieutenant Sugar.”
“Charles. Just a quick question. Do you know or can you find out about an LC who started street level maybe ten years ago, and young when she did. Probably just legal. Goes by Lucille.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve got a little more. Mixed race, probably Black/Asian, Avenue A turf back at the start, then moved up, but likely stayed in the same area. And before you ask, no I don’t know how many LCs work Alphabet City, but I figure it’s a lot. I’m just looking for one. She’s not in trouble, but I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I never worked that area, but I know some who did or do. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Appreciate it. What’re you making?”
“Honeymoon pancakes.”
“How long’s the honeymoon?” she wondered as they’d been married for months.
“I’m looking at
forever.”
“Nice thought, and thanks in advance for the help. See you,” she added, clicking off as she zipped to the curb a block from Asshole Joe’s.
She climbed out, calculating. Pizza joint wouldn’t be open yet, and neither would the arcade. She might be able to try Gregman’s sooner, and she’d get a line on any recent purchases for high-dollar tickets to Giants games.
Or better yet, she thought, when she spotted her partner in her puffy purple coat and pink cowboy boots flooding out of the subway stairs with a million others.
Eve fell into step beside her. “Good timing.”
“It was like being held hostage in an airless box with a bunch of refugees. They really need more trains on this line.”
“Routines,” Eve said. “They’re comfort, habit, patterns. Everybody’s got some. Routines, favorite things. I’ve got a list of Reinhold’s. I need you to check on tickets, premium tickets for Giants games. That’s football.”
“I know it’s football. I like football. Everybody wears those tight pants and has big shoulders.”
“They’re shoulder pads, so that’s false vision.”
“I like it fine.”
“Gregman’s,” Eve continued. “In Reinhold’s old neighborhood. Sells pistachio floats.”
“Yuck. I draw the line at green floats. But I got it.”
“I’ve got Charles doing a reach-out for an LC named Lucille. She reputedly broke Reinhold’s cherry, as well as giving him and his pals discount rates on bjs. Reinhold and Asshole Joe here may still use her from time to time. Then there’s Jangles, an arcade in Times Square—and some gamer named Bruno who beat Reinhold in a tournament. A beer joint nearby called Tap It.”
“How’d we miss all that?”
“We didn’t,” Eve said as she pulled out her badge for Joe’s building’s security plate. “It’s called follow-up. Mal remembered a little more when I tried the routine angle. Meanwhile, Roarke’s working the money angle.”
“So’s McNab, that and the ID. It’s slow going, Dallas.”
