Shallow Graves

Brinckley, sexy, lots of energy. Got it. The red?... Firm breasts, cup no bigger than 34C... No taller than five ten?... Oh, right, right. He’s just barely six feet. Okay... What? Oh, shit no, Larry. We’ve got a drawerful of them. Any leg shots on the redhead?... No, that will narrow it a little, but let me see if the one I have in mind... Right, right. I will. Thanks, Larry.“
    Yulin hung up, took a breath, then came back to me.
    I said, “Larry Shinkawa?“
    “Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact.“
    I didn’t say anything more. Yulin asked if there was anything else.
    “The mini-book?“
    “Oh, right.“ He retrieved the album from the desk and gave it to me, again taking the chair next to me.
    I turned plastic sleeves of Mau Tim in swimwear, sportswear, and yachtwear. It was hard to just flip through them. There was something about each that really caught the eye, like fine paintings of the same subject by different artists. None by Puriefoy.
    Then I hit the head-and-shoulders shot of Mau Tim and the necklace in full color. The purple stones lay perfectly symmetrically around the throat, the pendant weighing the least bit heavily toward the cleavage that the dressline suggested but the photo didn’t show. Eyes and necklace glittered in whatever light the photographer had shone on her.
    Yulin said, almost reverently, “That is a heart-stopper, isn’t it?“
    “Yes.“
    “The way I’ve described the shot to people, it’s as if a man asked her to sleep with him, and she just decided to say yes.“
    I tried to picture the broken pendant from Holt’s eight-by-ten of the crime scene. “You know anything about the necklace?“
    “You mean the way the stones pick up her eyes?“
    “I meant, do you know if the necklace was hers?“
    “Oh. No, I don’t. Probably hers or the photographer’s. I don’t think it was an ad shot.“
    “Meaning it wasn’t some jewelry store’s necklace.“
    “Or manufacturer’s. Why, is it important?“
    Yulin tried for open innocence, tried hard, but something made the corners of his mouth twitch just a little.
    “You remember where you were a week ago Friday, George?“
    “Well, let me see now…“ The eyebrows knitted, giving the impression he hadn’t thought about it until I’d just asked.
    The brows cleared. “Yes. Yes, I went to an ad party after work. Just an hors d’oeuvres and cocktails sort of bash, but enough dinner for me. Then I made the rounds of a few bars I know. Then I decided to call it a night and headed home.“
    “When did you leave the party?“
    “I don’t know. It was winding down.“
    “Six, seven?“
    “More like seven.“
    “And did you go drinking with someone?“
    “My friend, I talk all day with people. I like to do my drink ing anonymously. An atom in the mass society.“
    “Which bars did you hit?“
    He named three, all of them madhouses on a Friday evening. An uncheckable alibi.
    “And after the bars?“
    “As I said. Home to Brookline .“
    “Your partner told me—“
    “My what?“
    “Erica.“
    “Oh. Yes?“
    “Erica said some of the models confided in you two. Mau Tim ever do that?“
    Yulin turned it over. “No. No, she was really... well, quiet, as I said before.“
    “You ever visit her apartment?“
    “Never.“
    “Okay. You said Larry Shinkawa was her current boyfriend?“
    “Right.“
    “And Oz Puriefoy before that?“
    “Right, right.“
    “You know of any other boyfriends?“
    Yulin preened his hair again. “No.“
    “She never mentioned anybody else to you?“
    “No. As I said, she was real—oh, wait a minute. Yes. Yes, one other. Shawn somebody. She said he was her first.“
    “Her first?“
    Yulin brought out another knowing grin, affecting a bad brogue. “He who managed to deflower the lass.“
    “Do you know if it was S-H-A-W-N or S-E-A-N?“
    “Beats me. Probably just some Irish kid.“
    I gave Yulin a longer look this time.
    He said, “Uh, no offense meant.“
    “None taken.“
    Yulin licked his lips anyway.
    I said, “Erica seemed to think that Sinead Fagan might know more.“
    “Ah, the Marquesa of Medford .“
    Medford is a blue-collar town just outside Boston . Yulin pronounced the name like somebody growing up there would, Meh-fah. He seemed to like doing dialects.
    “Remember what I said about unappreciative bitches, John?“
    “Yes.“
    “A prime example. Though, with apologies to the ladies of the night, if Sinead weren’t being paid for it, she’d probably still