Kathy pulled away. "She told me Duke was dead, which any dunce with a radio knows. She told me Duke said that if anything happened to him she should look after me, and she gave me ten dollars. She said the police bothered her. I said ten dollars isn't very much, and she got insulted and yelled at me. And how'd you know Cindy was here?"

"Never mind."

"The rent here's nine dollars a week and I-"

"I'll get you some more money if you'll-"

"Duke was «never» that cheap with me!"

"«Kathy, hush now and let me ask you a few questions and maybe we'll get the guys who killed Duke. All right? Huh?»"

A kid's sigh. "Okay, all right, ask me."

Bud, soft. "Cindy said Duke told her to look after you if something happened to him. Do you think he figured something was gonna happen?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Why maybe?"

"Maybe 'cause Duke was nervous lately."

"Why was he nervous?"

"I don't know."

"Did you ask him?"

"He said, 'Just biz."'

Feather on Cathcart: "Jazzed on some new business scheme." "Kathy, was Duke starting some new kind of thing up?"

"I don't know, Duke said girls don't need shoptalk. And I know he left me more than a crummy ten dollars."

Bud gave her a Bureau card. "That's my number at work. You call me, huh?"

Kathy plucked a panda off the bed. "Duke was so messy and such a slob, but I didn't care. He had a cute smile and this cute scar on his chest, and he never yelled at me. My daddy and Uncle Arthur always yelled at me, so Duke never did. Wasn't that a nice thing to do?"

Bud left her with a hand squeeze. Halfway out to the street he heard her sobbing.

Back to the car, a brainstorm on the Cathcart play so far. Call Duke's "new gig" and pimp intrigue weak maybes; call Nite Owl chiliburgers 99 percent sure the ink on his death warrant. A pimp statch raper and a grifter ex-cop for victims-strange-but par for the Hollywood Boulevard 3:00 A.M. course. Call it busywork for Dudley -maybe Cindy was hinked on more than the cash she held back. He could muscle the money out of her, glom some pimp scuttlebutt, close out the Cathcart end and ask Dud to send him down to Darktown. Simple-but Cindy was who-knowswhere and Kathy had him dancing to her rune: savior with no place to go. He snapped to something missing from the bulletins: no checkout on Cathcart's apartment. A chance Duke's whore book might be there-leads on his gig and the pimp he bought Kathy from-a good time-killer.

Bud headed over Cahuenga. He saw a red sedan hovering back-he thought he'd seen it by the motel. He speeded up, made a run by Cindy's pad-no green De Soto, no red sedan. He drove to Silverlake checking his rearview. No tail car-just his imagination.

9819 Vendome looked virgin-a garage apartment behind a small stucco house. No reporters, no crime scene ropes, no locals out taking some sun. Bud popped the door with his hand.

A typical bachelor flop: living room/bedroom combo, bathroom, kitchenette. Lights on for a quick inventory-the way Dudley taught him.

A Murphy bed in the down position. Cheapie seascapes on the walls. One dresser, a walk-in closet. No doors on the bathroom and kitchenette-neat, clean. The whole pad looked spanking neat-at odds with Kathy: "Duke was so messy and such a slob."

Detail prowls-another Dudley trick. A phone on an end table, check the drawers: pencils, no address book, no whore book. A stack of Yellow Page directories, a toss-L.A. County, Riverside County, San Bernardino County, Ventura County. San Berdoo the only book used-ruffled pages, a cracked spine. Check the rufflings: "Printshop" listings thumbed through. A connection, probably nothing: victim Susan Lefferts, San Berdoo native.

Bud eyeball-prowled, click/click/click. The bathroom and kitchen immaculate; neatly folded shirts in the dresser. The carpet clean, a bit grimy in the corners. A final click: the crib had been checked out, cleaned up-maybe tossed by a pro.

He went through the closet: jackets and slacks slipping off hangers. Cathcart had a nifty wardrobe-someone had been trying on his threads or this was the real Duke-Kathy's slob-and the tosser didn't bother with his clothes.

Bud checked every pocket, ever garment: lint, spare change, nothing hot. A click: a test to test the tosser. He walked down to the car, got his evidence kit, dusted: the dresser a sure thing for latents. One more click: scouring powder wipe marks. Nail the pad as professionally print-wiped.

Bud packed up, got out, brainstormed some more-pimp war clicks, clickouts-Duke Cathcart had two skags in his stable, no stomach for pushing a fourteen-year-old nymphet-he was a pimp disaster area. He tried to click Duke's pad tossed to the Nite Owl-no gears meshçd, odds on the coons stayed high. If the tossing played, tie it to Cathcart's "new gig"-Feather Royko talked it up-she came off as clean as Sinful Cindy came off hinky. Cindy next-and she owed Kathy money.

Dusk settling in. Bud drove to Cindy's pad, saw the green De Soto. Moans out a half-cracked window-he shoved the sill up, vaulted in.

A dark hallway, grunt-grunt-grunt one door down. Bud walked over, looked in. Cindy and a fat man wearing argyles, the bed about ready to break. Fattie's trousers on the doorknob- Bud filched a billfold, emptied it, whistled.

Cindy shrieked; Fats kept pumping. Bud: "SHITBIRD, WHAT YOU DOIN' WITH MY WOMAN!!!!"

Things speeded up.

Fattie ran out holding his dick; Cindy dove under the sheets. Bud saw a purse, dumped it, grabbed money. Cindy shrieked willy-nilly. Bud kicked the bed. "Duke's enemies. Spill and I won't roust you."

Cindy poked her head out. "I… don't… know nothin'."

"The fuck you don't. Let's try this: somebody broke into Duke's place, you give me a suspect."

"I.. don't… know."

"Last chance. You held back at the station, Feather came clean. You went to Kathy Janeway's motel and stuffed her with a ten-spot. What else you hold back on?"

"Look-"

"Give."

"Give on what?"

"Give on Duke's new gig and his enemies. Tell me who used to pimp Kathy."

"I don't know who pimped her!"

"Then give on the other two."

Cindy wiped her face-smeared lipstick, runny makeup. "All I know's this guy was going around talking up cocktail-bar girls, acting like Duke. You know, the same one-liners, real Dukey shtick. I heard he was trying to get girls to do call jobs for him. He didn't talk to me or Feather, this is just stale-bread stuff I heard, like from two weeks ago."

Click: "This Guy" maybe the pad tosser, "This Guy" trying on Cathcart's clothes. "Keep going on that."

"That is all I heard, just the way I heard it."

"What did the guy look like?"

"I don't know."

"Who told you about him?"

"I don't even know that, they were just girls gabbing at the next table at this goddamned bar."

"All right, easy. Duke's new gig. Give on that."

"Mister, it was just another Dukey pipe dream."

"Then why didn't you tell me before?"

"You know the old adage 'Don't speak ill of the dead'?" "Yeah. You know the bull daggers at the Woman's Jail?" Cindy sighed. "Dukey pipe dream number six thousand- smut peddler. Is that a yuck? Dukey said he was going to push this weird smut. That's all I know, we had a two-second conversation on the topic and that's all Duke said. I didn't press it 'cause I know a pipe dream when I hear one. Now will you get out of here?"

Loose Bureau talk: Ad Vice working pornography. "What kind of smut?"

"Mister, I told you I don't know, it was just a two-second conversation."

"You gonna pay Kathy back what Duke left you?" "Sure, Good Samaritan. Ten here, ten there. If I gave her the money all at once she'd just blow it on movie mags anyway."

"I might be back."

"I wait with bated breath."