“The ones she knew did. I think you pretty much have to on the street. Somebody’s got to defend your right to a particular corner and bail you out when you get arrested. When you work out of an apartment like this, well, that’s different. But even so, most of the hookers I know have boyfriends.”

“Is that the same thing as a pimp?”

“Oh, no. A boyfriend isn’t running a batch of girls. He just happens to be your boyfriend. And you don’t turn your money over to him. But you buy him a lot of things, just because you want to, and you help out with cash when he hits a rough spot in life, or if there’s some business opportunity he wants to take advantage of, or because he needs a little loan and, gee, it’s not like you were giving him the money. That’s what a boyfriend is.”

“Sort of a one-woman pimp.”

“Sort of, except every girl swears her boyfriend’s different, her relationship’s different, and what never changes is who earns the money and who spends it.”

“And you never had a pimp, did you? Or a boyfriend?”

“Never. I had my palm read once and the woman who did it was impressed. ‘You have a double head line, dear,’ she told me. ‘Your head rules your heart.’ “ She came over, showed me her hand. “It’s this line right here. See?”

“Looks good to me.”

“Damn straight.” She went back for her glass of soda, then came and sat on the couch beside me. She said, “When I learned what happened to Kim, the first thing I did was call you. But you weren’t in.”

“I never got the message.”

“I didn’t leave one. I hung up and called a travel agent I know. A couple hours later I was on a plane for Barbados.”

“Were you afraid you were on somebody’s list?”

“Hardly that. I just figured Chance killed her. I didn’t think he’d start knocking off all her friends and relations. No, I just knew it was time for a break. A week at a beachfront hotel. A little sun in the afternoon, a little roulette at night, and enough steel-drum music and limbo dancing to hold me for a long time.”

“Sounds good.”

“Second night out I met a fellow at the poolside cocktail party. He was staying at the next hotel over. Very nice fellow, tax lawyer, got divorced a year and a half ago and then went through a tough little affair with someone too young for him, and he’s over that now, and who does he meet but me.”

“And?”

“And we had a nice little romance for the rest of the week. Long walks on the beach. Snorkeling, tennis. Romantic dinners. Drinks on my terrace. I had a terrace looking out at the sea.”