Hooked

one. So good move.”
    He wrinkled his brow but didn’t say anything. Bet he thought she entertained clients in her apartment. Some women did. Not her. She didn’t want a client barging in at all hours of the night demanding extra or venting anger when she chose not to see him again.
    The pizza was delicious, with every vegetable topping known to pizzaland. He’d bought it at the same place right around the corner where she bought hers. Okay, so they had pizza in common, but she bet he usually ate his with pepperoni. She struggled to finish the third piece and pushed her plate aside.
    “How did you happen to get the pizza at Zuni’s?”
    “I looked up the closest place to your house and called. I asked if they knew you. Need I say they did? By name and description. Then I told them to make up a pizza the way you ordered it.” He pointed to the leftovers. “ Voilà .”
    Tawny smiled. “Very thoughtful.” Walsh got up, stacked the dishes, and brought them to the sink. She cleaned off the table. He started to put them in the dishwasher. “Leave them. I’ll do them later.”
    “I see,” he said. “Let’s get to business so you can get rid of me.”
    “I wouldn’t be so rude after you bought me dinner. But, yeah.” He appeared genuinely hurt, and she wondered why she was being rude after saying she wouldn’t. “Only that it’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired.”
    “Right. Business it is.” He pulled a folded 6 by 9 kraft envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a second envelope of photographs, along with two folded sheets of paper. He slid one sheet in front of her. “Your assurance in writing, authorized by the state’s attorney, that no federal charges will be brought against you if you find out whether Cooper had anything to do with murder or blackmail. You’ll have to pay all back taxes, interest, and penalties, but there may be probation. Depends on how things work out. That’s fair, don’t you think?”
    “Considering the alternative, yes. I appreciate it, but I still hate the idea of being a spy.”
    “Tawny, a very frightened woman called us and mentioned Benny Cooper’s name. Now she’s dead.”
    “If Benny’s involved, what makes you think the same thing won’t happen to me?”
    “Because you’ll be in contact with me every step of the way. Anything suspicious or if you feel threatened, get out of there fast, and we’ll take over. Okay?”
    Tawny nodded.
    “We’ve been watching the place ever since we connected the dead woman with Cooper, mostly at night because we don’t have the manpower to watch during the day. I have photos of people coming and going.”
    “Tell me about her.” She met Walsh’s gaze. “The dead woman. I need to know.” Would knowing give the task at hand more immediacy? To make it real in terms of someone’s life?
    Walsh nodded absent-mindedly and referred to the other paper. “Real name, Sarah Marshall. Serena was her stage name. A beautiful girl from a nice home, college graduate, not a junked-out street hooker. She had her whole life ahead of her. Then she got into the business. A way to earn extra money, we found out from a friend. She thought being a call girl was a victimless crime, like you said.”
    Walsh’s stare penetrated into her like a heat-seeking missile. She tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t see any of her clients being victimized, and she never thought of herself as a victim.
    After pulling the stack of photographs from the envelope, he put all but two in front of her. “Here are the women we’ve been able to identify.” Their names were on the backs of the photos, and Walsh went through them.
    The girls were all pretty. Most were white, some of mixed ethnicity, a couple were African American, one Latina , although she could have been Indian.
    “These two have stopped going to the building,” Walsh said, referring to the two other photos. One was blonde, quite pretty, a little too much makeup. She wore slacks and a sweater that accentuated her full bustline. “Melody Carnes is a model on Seventh Avenue .”
    “A little busty for modeling.”
    “Well, she’s not anorexic, for sure. She’s been holed up in her apartment, went out once that we saw, although our surveillance has been spotty at best. When she did, she wore dark glasses and a ball cap. We could pick her up, but I don’t want to do that until you see what you can come up with. Might queer what we have going. We