Rules of Prey

the clearest one out of the billfold and let it fall to the bottom of the bag. In a side pocket he found two twists of plastic. Cocaine.
    “Got a couple quarter-grams here,” he said to the vice cop. “You inventoried her purse yet?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Stick your head out the door and call Anderson, will you?”
    When the cop stepped outside, Lucas pocketed the photograph from the billfold and snapped the billfold shut.
    “Yeah?” Anderson stepped back inside.
    “Got some toot. Better get a property bag around this purse before it goes away.”
     
    Vincent Short was short. He also had long, thinning red hair and thought he looked like Woody Allen. He didn’t know nothing. He scratched his head and shook it, and scratched his head some more. The dandruff flakes fell like snow on his black turtleneck shirt. Two vice cops were standing around looking at him when Lucas came in. Short looked up and paled.
    “Lieutenant,” he said nervously.
    “Vincent, my friend, we need to talk,” Lucas said cheerfully. He looked around at the vice cops. “Could I have a private talk with this guy? We’re old pals.”
    “No problem,” said one of the cops.
    “Say, you find the girl’s registration card?”
    “Yeah, right here.”
    One of the vice cops handed it to him and Lucas glanced at the total charge. Thirty dollars. “Thanks. See you around.”
    When they were gone, Lucas turned to Short, who was shrinking back in his chair.
    “Maybe we ought to go back in the office where we can talk,” he suggested.
    “You fuck, Davenport—” Short started to cry.
    Lucas leaned over his chair and spoke in kindly tones. “Vincent, you know who the girl’s pimp is. Now, you’ve got to decide, are you more scared of him? Or more scared of me? And let me give you a hint. We’re working on a multiple killer here. My ass is on the line. So you should definitely be more scared of me.”
    “You fuck—”
    “And maybe you should think about what the boss is going to say when he finds out you rented a room to a hooker, all night, for thirty bucks. You must have been getting a little on the side, huh? Maybe a little pussy, maybe a little kickback? Huh, Vincent?”
    “You fuck . . .”
    Lucas glanced out the windows toward the street. Nobody was looking in. He reached down and grabbed the flesh between Short’s nostrils between a thumb and forefinger and drove his thumbnail into it. Short arched his head as though he were being electrocuted and dragged at Lucas’ hand with his, but Lucas hung on and pressed his other thumb into Short’s throat below his Adam’s apple so he couldn’t scream. They struggled for a few seconds and then Lucas let go and backed off, and Short doubled up in the chair, his face buried in his hands, a long groan squeezing from his mouth.
    Lucas leaned over him and wiped his fingers on Short’s shirt, his face close to Short’s.
    “Who’s her pimp?” Lucas asked quietly.
    “Aw, c’mon, Davenport.”
    “If you think that hurt, I’ve got a couple more in places you wouldn’t even believe,” Lucas said. “Don’t show, either.”
    “Sparks,” he mumbled. His voice was almost inaudible. “Don’t tell him I told you.”
    “Who?”
    “Jefferson Sparks. She works for Sparks.”
    “Sparky. God damn.” Lucas patted Short on the shoulder. “Thanks, Vincent. The police appreciate the cooperation of our citizens.”
    Short looked up at him, his eyes rimmed with red, tears running down his cheeks.
    “Get out of here, you fuck.”
    “If this isn’t right, if it’s not Sparky, I’ll be back,” Lucas promised. He smiled at Short. “Have a nice day.”
    Outside, they were moving the body, wheeling it out into the flaring lights of the TV cameras. The vice cops were standing in a small group by the sidewalk, watching, when Lucas walked up.
    “Your old pal tell you anything?”
    “She worked for Jefferson Sparks,” Lucas said.
    “Sparky,” one of the cops said enthusiastically. “I do believe I know where he’s staying.”
    “Pick him up,” said Lucas. “Soliciting or something. We’ll talk to him downtown tomorrow morning.”
    “Sure.”
     
    Anderson was talking to the medical examiner. When he finished, he walked over to Lucas, shaking his head.
    “Nothing?” asked Lucas.
    “Not a thing.”
    “You’re dragging the neighborhood for witnesses?”
    “Got guys all over the place. Won’t know anything until tomorrow.”
    “We got a name on the pimp,” Lucas said.