and he could hear the rustle of clothes being rearranged.
'You
come next week with more.' The prostitute was all business now that her buttons
had been pushed. 'Double. Or I'll go to the police, you hear?'
Emmanuel
stood back and waited. The woman was the first to emerge, now dressed in a red
satin dress with red pumps and holding a large red handbag. She caught sight of
Emmanuel and made a dash for the main street. Her cork-wedged pumps attached to
her feet by thin 'vamp' straps were not designed for running. He caught her
easily and swung her around.
False
eyelashes the size of Japanese fans fluttered in her powdered face. 'He pulled
me in. The charm grabbed me and dragged me behind the gate.'
'What's
in the bag?' Emmanuel asked.
'What?'
'I'd
like to see what's in your bag.'
She-clutched
the handles. 'That charra raped me. Call the police.'
Giriraj
stepped out into the alley. If the Indian ran, Emmanuel knew he'd catch him.
Keeping him down was going to be the problem. He waited for the bald man to
make a move. Giriraj stood like an impala caught in the headlights.
'Arrest
him. He took advantage of me.'
Emmanuel
said, 'Open the bag.'
The
prostitute flipped the giant gold clip. Emmanuel moved his hand along the
bottom and felt the usual female beauty tools - a disc of rouge, a brush, a
lipstick tube - and then a doughy lump. He extracted a round shape held in a
small muslin cloth.
'What's
this?'
'Don't
know. The charra must have slipped it into my bag.'
'Open
it.'
She
shrugged a shoulder before she unfolded the cloth and let the edges drop. A
dark matchbox-sized lump lay in the centre of the white material. Hashish.
He
looked to the woman for an explanation.
'It's
chocolate,' she said.
'Really?'
' Ja .'
'Eat
it.'
'No.'
The woman shook her head. 'I got a delicate stomach. That much chocolate will
make me sick.'
'I
bet it will,' said Emmanuel. 'You get all your chocolate from this man?'
She
fiddled with the gold clasp of the handbag, trying to take a stand against
revealing more damaging information. Emmanuel waited in silence.
'Used
to get it from another charra but now I got an arrangement
with that one over there.'
'What
kind of arrangement?'
'I
don't let him have more than fifteen minutes.' She tossed her hair back, full
of righteous indignation. She was a whore but a whore with standards.
'Did
you get some from him last night?'
' Ja .'
'You
paid for it?'
'I
told you. We have an arrangement.'
'Ahh
. . .' Emmanuel understood.
He
motioned Giriraj over and got him to stand next to the streetwalker. The Indian
man's head was bowed, like a recalcitrant child. Emmanuel tapped him on the
shoulder and forced him to make eye contact.
'Does
Parthiv know you're stealing from him?'
He
shook his head.
'Where
were you when Parthiv and Amal went to find a woman? You weren't by the car.'
Giriraj
pointed to the prostitute.
'The
two Indian men you told the detective about,' Emmanuel said to the woman. 'When
did they speak to you?'
'Don't
know. I don't wear a watch. Too risky.'
'Did
you talk to them before or after you got your delivery?'
'A
bit before. This one came with the stuff right after I sent them packing.'
In
just under half an hour Giriraj had managed to steal a chunk of hash, service a
prostitute and initiate a kidnapping. Impressive work.
'The
boy found in the alley,' Emmanuel said to Giriraj. 'Did you see him alive?'
The
Indian shook his head again.
'I
seen him,' the woman said. 'He was coming from the Night Owl.'
'Where's
the Night Owl?'
False
eyelashes fluttered downward and threw shadows over rouged cheeks. She pursed
her lips. 'What have you got to exchange?'
'Freedom,'
said Emmanuel. 'That's the opposite of jail where prostitutes with hashish end
up.'
She
took a breath. 'It's two blocks back on Camperdown Street. Open late even when
it's supposed to be shut. The boy had a brown paper bag and a bottle. I seen
him walk by fast.'
'Alone?'
'Couple
of minutes later a white man in
'You
come next week with more.' The prostitute was all business now that her buttons
had been pushed. 'Double. Or I'll go to the police, you hear?'
Emmanuel
stood back and waited. The woman was the first to emerge, now dressed in a red
satin dress with red pumps and holding a large red handbag. She caught sight of
Emmanuel and made a dash for the main street. Her cork-wedged pumps attached to
her feet by thin 'vamp' straps were not designed for running. He caught her
easily and swung her around.
False
eyelashes the size of Japanese fans fluttered in her powdered face. 'He pulled
me in. The charm grabbed me and dragged me behind the gate.'
'What's
in the bag?' Emmanuel asked.
'What?'
'I'd
like to see what's in your bag.'
She-clutched
the handles. 'That charra raped me. Call the police.'
Giriraj
stepped out into the alley. If the Indian ran, Emmanuel knew he'd catch him.
Keeping him down was going to be the problem. He waited for the bald man to
make a move. Giriraj stood like an impala caught in the headlights.
'Arrest
him. He took advantage of me.'
Emmanuel
said, 'Open the bag.'
The
prostitute flipped the giant gold clip. Emmanuel moved his hand along the
bottom and felt the usual female beauty tools - a disc of rouge, a brush, a
lipstick tube - and then a doughy lump. He extracted a round shape held in a
small muslin cloth.
'What's
this?'
'Don't
know. The charra must have slipped it into my bag.'
'Open
it.'
She
shrugged a shoulder before she unfolded the cloth and let the edges drop. A
dark matchbox-sized lump lay in the centre of the white material. Hashish.
He
looked to the woman for an explanation.
'It's
chocolate,' she said.
'Really?'
' Ja .'
'Eat
it.'
'No.'
The woman shook her head. 'I got a delicate stomach. That much chocolate will
make me sick.'
'I
bet it will,' said Emmanuel. 'You get all your chocolate from this man?'
She
fiddled with the gold clasp of the handbag, trying to take a stand against
revealing more damaging information. Emmanuel waited in silence.
'Used
to get it from another charra but now I got an arrangement
with that one over there.'
'What
kind of arrangement?'
'I
don't let him have more than fifteen minutes.' She tossed her hair back, full
of righteous indignation. She was a whore but a whore with standards.
'Did
you get some from him last night?'
' Ja .'
'You
paid for it?'
'I
told you. We have an arrangement.'
'Ahh
. . .' Emmanuel understood.
He
motioned Giriraj over and got him to stand next to the streetwalker. The Indian
man's head was bowed, like a recalcitrant child. Emmanuel tapped him on the
shoulder and forced him to make eye contact.
'Does
Parthiv know you're stealing from him?'
He
shook his head.
'Where
were you when Parthiv and Amal went to find a woman? You weren't by the car.'
Giriraj
pointed to the prostitute.
'The
two Indian men you told the detective about,' Emmanuel said to the woman. 'When
did they speak to you?'
'Don't
know. I don't wear a watch. Too risky.'
'Did
you talk to them before or after you got your delivery?'
'A
bit before. This one came with the stuff right after I sent them packing.'
In
just under half an hour Giriraj had managed to steal a chunk of hash, service a
prostitute and initiate a kidnapping. Impressive work.
'The
boy found in the alley,' Emmanuel said to Giriraj. 'Did you see him alive?'
The
Indian shook his head again.
'I
seen him,' the woman said. 'He was coming from the Night Owl.'
'Where's
the Night Owl?'
False
eyelashes fluttered downward and threw shadows over rouged cheeks. She pursed
her lips. 'What have you got to exchange?'
'Freedom,'
said Emmanuel. 'That's the opposite of jail where prostitutes with hashish end
up.'
She
took a breath. 'It's two blocks back on Camperdown Street. Open late even when
it's supposed to be shut. The boy had a brown paper bag and a bottle. I seen
him walk by fast.'
'Alone?'
'Couple
of minutes later a white man in
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