The Lover's Children novel Chapter 97

KLEMPNER

Lorelei clips along in black, dagger-heeled, vinyl boots. Somehow, she manages to chew gum and smoke at the same time. I stroll along beside her. “Where are we going?”

“Few streets along, toward the Square. Coupla girls I know there saw a guy there might fit your bill. C’mon, it’s only a five-minute walk.”

Pointed looks shoot my way as I accompany an obvious street-hooker.

Lorelei talks from the side of her mouth. “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“That I’m a hooker.”

“Not in the least.”

“How come?”

“Everyone has to earn a living. Yours is an honest trade.”

She draws a whistle between her teeth. “It’s not everyone sees it that way.”

“I’ve met enough genuine bad bastards to know the difference between a criminal and someone who’s just trying to get through life.”

She halts mid-step, turns and stares at me. Then she smiles. “You’re okay. You know that?”

“I’m pleased you think so.” I offer a hand the way we were heading… “Shall we move on…”

Lorelei’s ‘five-minute walk’ takes us through the kind of shopping street frequented by the City High-and-Mighty. Acres of polished brass and plate glass are haunted by women wearing thousands in fashion bling. They fall into two groups. Some appear to be designer-dressed famine victims. The remainder have apparently eaten the food the first half missed. A few are accompanied by male partners, presumably with the single duty of producing the wallet on cue.

A prime example Tuts as we pass: tubby, scrub-faced and over-dressed. A man accompanies her, be-suited, be-spectacled, and with cost-accountant stamped on his forehead. As he opens a car door, she struggles inside, arranging her inflated ass on the back seat. “Well! It’s coming to something when that type comes through this area.”

Lorelei throws her a look, then with a puff of the cheeks, launches her gum at the car. Arcing through the air, it lands in the gutter under the door. “What’s ya problem lard-ass? Hubby too busy shafting his clients to do you? Send him to me. I’ll sort him out. Cost ya fifty.”

I keep a straight face, looking rigidly forward. As we move on, Lorelei talks out of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry about that. Gets on my tits when they talk that way.”

“Couldn’t agree more. She doesn’t look like she’s worked a day in her life.”

She flicks me a glance. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But don’t get yourself a fine for littering.”

She sniffs and pulls a draw from her cigarette. “Y’know, you’re not what I expected from your rep.”

“No? What does my rep say?”

“That you’re a shit-faced bad-ass.”

“I’m trying to move on from the shit-faced part.”

She snorts, then nods forward. “There’s Donna. She’s expecting us.”

At the corner ahead of us, a blonde watches the street, first one way toward the Square, then back along the road toward the shopping centre. Her hair dark at the roots, a scarlet vinyl halter-neck stacks her assets up and forward. Short to begin with, and top-heavy as she is, she appears even shorter.

“I thought it was two women we were meeting?”

“Yeah. They work as a team. That’s their pitch. But I don’t see Angie. She’s prob’ly with a john.”

“Their pitch? It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it? A spot like that. So close to the upmarket end of town? I’d have thought the police would move them along.”

“Happens all the time. Cops turn up, they disappear.”

The woman sees us approaching, raises a hand…” “Hi, Lori.” … but eyes me with poorly veiled suspicion. “This him then?”

“Yup. Donna, this is Larry that I told you about. He’s looking for this murdering freak that’s loose in the City.” She lights another cigarette, offers the packet.

Donna accepts one then, as Lorelei leans forward, cigarette in mouth, offering the glowing tip, a light.

The two women are almost head-to-head before Donna inhales, blows smoke my way, then addresses me. “Lori here says you’re looking for a guy that gives off bad vibes?”

“I am, yes. What can you tell me?”

She gestures up and down the road. “There’s plenty out there, but yeah, there's one in particular. Sounds like what Lori told us. Jeans and a grey hoodie? That right?”

“That’s right.”

“He wasn't interested in me...” She coughs, hacks, then draws smoke again before she resumes. “It was Angie he wanted. But she didn’t want to know.”

“What does Angie look like?”

Donna blinks at the question, then, “Um… tall.” She raises a hand, measuring the air, almost to my eye-level. “Lot taller ‘n me. And she has this whippy kinda figure.”

She draws back her shoulders, pushes out her chest, making the most of Nature’s gifts and displaying more cleavage than I want to see. “Angie, she’s a bit flat up top. Has to wear a pusher-upper…” She cups under her tits, rounding and raising them in demonstration. “She’s all legs and ass, y’know the type?”

“Yes, I know the type. What’s her hair like?”

“Long. Dark brown.” She drops a hand to mid-hip level. “She’s got great hair. Gotta admit, it gives me the green-eye, her hair. Musta taken her years to grow it.” She pauses, looking around, frowning. “Thought she’d be back by now.”

“Anything else?” I ask

“Like what?”

“How does Angie dress, when she’s working?”

“She’s the classy type. Y’know, doesn’t show off too much at once.” She winks, elbowing me in the ribs. “Likes to keep them guessing what she’s selling.”

“She smoke or drink? She on anything?”

“Doesn’t smoke or do drugs. Doesn’t drink so as ya’d notice.”

Lorelei breaks in. “Larry, does this mean anything to you?”

“So far, Angie sounds like just the type the Surgeon’s going after.” Her mouth falls slack. So does Donna’s. “What did he look like? The man you’re talking about.”

Donna scrapes her chin from the sidewalk. “Kinda… ordinary. Nothing you’d notice. Hard to describe.”

“Try. Was he tall? Short?”

“Um… Sorta in the middle, I s’pose. Taller ‘n me, but not so tall as Angie.”