was?“
The jaw clenched again. “Twenty-five percent. Standard in the industry.“
Six-twenty-five a day to Lindqvist/Yulin. “And how many days a week did Mau Tim work?“
“We could have gotten her six if she wanted, but usually four, sometimes five. You see, she could pose for one photographer during the day, another on a small job at night with a guaranteed half-day rate for the smaller job.“
“So be conservative and call it two hundred days a year. That means she’d earn a hundred and a quarter a year for you in commissions.“
Yulin lifted his chin a little. “No, John. We earned that money. By placing her in good shoots that paid top dollar for her.“
“Had you placed her in a shoot that day?“
“That...? Oh, you mean the day she died. No.“
“You don’t have to look it up?“
“No. I’m positive. She’d told me in no uncertain terms that Saturday was her birthday. She wasn’t working Friday or the weekend.“
“She call in that Friday?“
Yulin shut his eyes, then said, “Yes. As usual.“
“Meaning?“
“Meaning midaftemoon.“
“Can you be more specific?“
“Two, three?“
“She seem worried to you?“
“No. We talked about a job two weeks down the line. In Jamaica for a casino. She seemed very up for it.“
A knock at the door. Yulin said, “Yes?“
Erica Lindqvist stuck her head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, George, but Larry Shin is on the phone from the airport, and I’ve got to run. Can you take it?“
“Certainly, Erica.“
She nodded and left. Yulin had said “certainly“ like a bank teller asked to count out a thousand dollars in singles.
The man stood. “Excuse me, John.“ He went behind his desk and picked up his telephone. By the time he pushed the button on the console, his voice had a “how can I serve“ lilt to it.
“Larry! Great to hear from you. Chief. How goes it?... Right, right. Give me what you... Right, blonde and redhead. The blonde?... Young Christie 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,
The jaw clenched again. “Twenty-five percent. Standard in the industry.“
Six-twenty-five a day to Lindqvist/Yulin. “And how many days a week did Mau Tim work?“
“We could have gotten her six if she wanted, but usually four, sometimes five. You see, she could pose for one photographer during the day, another on a small job at night with a guaranteed half-day rate for the smaller job.“
“So be conservative and call it two hundred days a year. That means she’d earn a hundred and a quarter a year for you in commissions.“
Yulin lifted his chin a little. “No, John. We earned that money. By placing her in good shoots that paid top dollar for her.“
“Had you placed her in a shoot that day?“
“That...? Oh, you mean the day she died. No.“
“You don’t have to look it up?“
“No. I’m positive. She’d told me in no uncertain terms that Saturday was her birthday. She wasn’t working Friday or the weekend.“
“She call in that Friday?“
Yulin shut his eyes, then said, “Yes. As usual.“
“Meaning?“
“Meaning midaftemoon.“
“Can you be more specific?“
“Two, three?“
“She seem worried to you?“
“No. We talked about a job two weeks down the line. In Jamaica for a casino. She seemed very up for it.“
A knock at the door. Yulin said, “Yes?“
Erica Lindqvist stuck her head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, George, but Larry Shin is on the phone from the airport, and I’ve got to run. Can you take it?“
“Certainly, Erica.“
She nodded and left. Yulin had said “certainly“ like a bank teller asked to count out a thousand dollars in singles.
The man stood. “Excuse me, John.“ He went behind his desk and picked up his telephone. By the time he pushed the button on the console, his voice had a “how can I serve“ lilt to it.
“Larry! Great to hear from you. Chief. How goes it?... Right, right. Give me what you... Right, blonde and redhead. The blonde?... Young Christie 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,
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