“They aren’t going to incriminate themselves.”

Bo pointed the fry at her. “You remember Terry Grimes being one of your customers?”

She again averted her eyes, peering at the framed photographs of the country music singers who’d played at the club. “Terry was a regular.”

“Were all of your . . . times with him at the Sundowners?”

“Mostly, we were up in one of the two VIP rooms, but not always. Terry liked to use the Sands Motor Hotel out by Highway 64.”

“The one by the interstate?”

She nodded. “I’d meet him there on Sunday afternoons after church. He said he told his wife he had to do paperwork at the dealership and that was the only time he could do it.” She paused and shook her head. “We’d swim in the pool and have a couple of vodka and tonics. Then, when he was good and loose, we’d go up to a room, do a couple of lines of coke on the pocket mirror I kept in my purse, and then . . .” She trailed off.

“What about Butch Renfroe or Lou Horn? Did you ever meet either of them as part of the ring?”

She gave her head a jerk. “No. I had other suitors, but Terry was who always requested me.”

“Was it Terry who paid you?”

“No. I got my money from Larry Tucker. He owned the Sundowners and took a percentage off the top of the ring because most of the trysts happened at his club.”

“I see,” Bo said, picking up another fry but then setting it down without eating it. “So Terry might say that he was just having an affair.”

She held out her palms. “I guess he could, but Larry paid me for each trick I turned.”

“Larry’s dead, and I assume all the payments were made in cash.”

She nodded and then placed her hands over her face. “I haven’t been much help, have I?”

Bo again squeezed her hand. “On the contrary, this information is very helpful. It gives me an angle to work with Terry Grimes. He’s been avoiding my calls and attempts to see him. This prostitution ring is a possible alternative theory to Butch’s murder.”

“You think Butch was planning to confess the ring and implicate Terry and Lou and he got killed for it?”

Bo leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I don’t know, OK? But Terry Grimes is who found him, and the only prints in the house other than Butch’s and the General’s belonged to Terry.” Bo popped his knuckles on the table. “He’s our best option as an alternative killer, and I don’t think the sheriff’s office has done near enough to investigate him.” Bo stood from the table. “You ready?”

“I’m sorry I ruined our celebration.”

“You did exactly what I asked you to do. Thank you, Lona.”