Criminal

arresting. “The cards are fed into a daily report that goes up the chain of command. Someone high up would know that Jane was trying to use Lucy’s name.”
    Evelyn came to the same conclusion as Amanda had. “We were sent to Techwood to scare Jane into silence.”
    “We did a great job, didn’t we?”
    Evelyn put her hand to her temple. “I need a drink. This is giving me a migraine.”
    “Well, this should make your head hurt even more.” Amanda told her about the phone call with Pam Canale, the dead end she’d hit. Then she relayed the cryptic conversation she’d had with Sergeant Hodge.
    “How strange,” was all Evelyn could manage. “Why won’t Hodge answer our questions?”
    “I think he wants us to keep working this case, but he can’t appear to be encouraging us.”
    “I think you’re right.” Evelyn said, “Maybe Kitty didn’t get that top-floor apartment with sexual favors. Maybe her uncle or daddy pulled some strings.”
    “If Kitty is the black sheep of the Treadwell family, I can certainly see Andrew Treadwell trying to keep her from making trouble. He sets her up in an apartment with her own kind. He gets her on the welfare rolls. He makes sure she’s got just enough money to stay out of his hair.”
    “There’s no way we can talk to Andrew Treadwell. We wouldn’t make it as far as the lobby.”
    Amanda didn’t bother to agree with the obvious.
    Evelyn said, “I talked to my gal in undercover. It’s just what I thought: it’d be easier to find a man who doesn’t like choking whores.”
    “That’s depressing.”
    “It is if you’re a whore.” Evelyn added, “I told her to ask around if anybody likes painting fingernails.”
    “Smart thinking.”
    “We’ll see if it pans out. I told her to call me at home. I’d hate for any of this to go out on the radio.”
    “Did you find out whether or not Juice was in jail when Jane was murdered?”
    “He was at Grady getting fitted with a resisting-arrest turban.”
    Amanda had heard the terminology before. There were a lot of prisoners who woke up in the Grady ER with no recollection of how they’d gotten there. “That’s hardly an alibi. He could walk in and out of the hospital without anyone noticing.”
    “You’re right,” Evelyn agreed.
    Amanda blinked at the sweltering sun. “We could stand out here all day talking ourselves into circles.”
    “Right again. Let’s get this part over with.” Evelyn indicated the flat, one-story building in front of them. The Union Mission had been a butcher’s shop at one time.
    Amanda said, “Acapulco. Where did you get that?”
    “I saw a spread in Life magazine. Johnny Weissmuller has a place there. It was gorgeous.”
    “You and your magazines.”
    Evelyn grinned, then turned serious as she looked up at the building. “How are we going to handle this? As far as anyone knows, Lucy Bennett committed suicide.”
    “I think that’s the story we should stick to, don’t you?”
    “I don’t think we have a choice.”
    Amanda was used to not having a lot of choices, but it had never grated the way it did lately. She walked toward the front entrance. She could hear funk music playing on a radio. There were metal bars across the glass storefront. Rows of empty beds filled the front space, at least twenty deep and four across. The girls weren’t allowed to stay here during the day. Ostensibly, they were supposed to be out looking for jobs. The front door was propped open and the smell of the building airing out was as unpleasant as anything Amanda had smelled in the last week.
    “Help you?” a man called over the music. He was dressed like a hippie, wearing sunglasses even though he was indoors. His sandy blond mustache was long and droopy. A brown fedora was pulled low on his head. He was extremely tall and lanky. His walk was more of an amble.
    Evelyn mumbled, “He looks like Spike, Snoopy’s brother.”
    Amanda didn’t share that she’d been thinking the same thing. She called to the man, “We’re looking for a Mr. Trask?”
    He shook his head as he walked over. “No Trask here, ladies. I’m Trey Callahan.”
    “Trey,” Evelyn and Amanda said in unison. At least Bennett had been close. There was no telling what he thought Amanda and Evelyn were called. If he gave it any thought at all.
    “So.” Callahan flashed a laconic smile, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I’m guessing one of the girls is in trouble, in which case, I probably can’t help you.