V is for Vengeance (Kinsey Millhone 22)

I waited.

Finally, I heard a muffled “Show me.”

I recognized Dodie’s voice, so I moved over to the living room window that was blocked by drawn drapes. Dodie made a small opening between the panels and stared out at me. A moment later, I heard her turn the deadbolt and slide the chain back on its track. She opened the door a crack and I sidled in. I stood to one side as she reversed the locking process. If Len Priddy decided to come after her, all the locks in the world wouldn’t do any good. He’d bash in the front window and that would be the end of that. I didn’t mention the likelihood, thinking there was no point in scaring her when she was already scared to death.

In the living room to my right, the television set was on with the sound turned down. She put a finger to her lips and then gestured toward the back of the house. We tiptoed down the hall and into the kitchen, during which time I had the opportunity to register the changes in her. She’d been transformed by the weight loss. Pinky had told me she’d dropped sixty pounds and the difference was amazing. Her bright blue eyes had always been her best feature. Now she had a better color on her hair, a better cut, and better makeup as a result of her new occupation. She’d also improved her wardrobe. The outfit she wore—long-sleeve V-neck sweater, well-tailored slacks, and expensive high heels—gave her the elongated look of a fashion model, though Pinky was right about her tush.

When we reached the kitchen, I whispered, “You look great.”

“Thanks,” she whispered back.

“Why are we whispering?”

She held up a finger and wagged it, like I wasn’t supposed to ask. She grabbed a pen and a copy of the newspaper and wrote a note in the margin that said, “Bugged.”

Under her breath, she said, “You must be looking for Pinky. What’s he done now?”

“He’s pissed off a cop named Len Priddy, which is not a good idea.”

“Oh, him,” she murmured. “He stopped by a while ago and I said Pinky’d gone to see you.”

I closed my eyes, suppressing a shriek. No wonder Len had showed up. He’d already spied on Pinky at my office that morning and now she’d steered him right back.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “You know anything about the photographs he stole?”

She blinked. “Photographs?”

I waited, hoping she’d cough up what she knew. “Dodie, you gotta trust me. So far, I’m operating in the dark. I can’t help him unless I know what’s going on.”

“Promise you won’t tell.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. Instead, I crossed my heart with my index finger, swearing fealty for life.

She put a hand across her mouth to shield what she said lest someone looking on from a distance might be skilled in reading lips. As we were indoors, I didn’t see the necessity. I was forced to lean close to hear her since she was already whispering. “There were pictures of me. Mug shots from that time I was picked up for soliciting. Also, the mug shots and police reports from the drunk and disorderly arrest. That cop knows I work for Glorious Womanhood, and if my regional manager finds out I’ve been in jail, I’ll lose my job. She’s already pissed off that I’m beating her sales.”

“Len’s blackmailing you?”

“Not exactly. He’s using the photographs to keep Pinky in line, making sure he reports all the talk on the street.”

“Pinky’s a confidential informant?”

“I suppose. Anyway, he’s destroyed all the stuff on me, so he says Len can go screw himself.”

“Unless Len uses his computer to call up your criminal history and print it out again.”

“Oh.”

“That aside, I still don’t get it. From what Pinky told me, there was a second set of photographs he thought he could use to get himself out of trouble. You know the story there?”

“I do, but he doesn’t know I know so you have to promise you won’t ever let on.”

“I’m already under oath here,” I said.

She wagged a finger at me again and then opened the back door and pulled me out onto the porch. “He borrowed money from a loan shark named Lorenzo Dante and payment’s come due.”

“How much?” Her paranoia was contagious and I couldn’t bring myself to use a normal tone of voice.

“Two thousand dollars. He’s been trying to get the money together, but no luck. He sold his car and pawned the Rolex that came into his possession from an unnamed source. He also hocked my engagement ring, but then got cold feet.”