“Her birth certificate says eighteen,” Beauchamps said. “And she’s pubescent, believe me. I’ve seen her on the streets couple of times since, her tits are more than ample for the halters she wears. Those photos knock a couple of years off of her.”

“Who’s Myra’s old man now?” Decker asked.

“Letwoine’s ladies were divided by the other pimps in the area,” Beauchamps said. “Some went to a Mideastern prick named Yusef Sabib, some went to Willy Black, a couple went to Clementine—”

Decker groaned.

“I thought he was your buddy,” Beauchamps said, smiling.

Straight white teeth. Guy should be selling toothpaste instead of busting whores.

Decker said, “Everyone needs a pet maggot. Do you know who Steele went with?”

“No,” Beauchamps said. “And she didn’t volunteer his name when Andrick asked her. I know that ’cause Andrick asked me if I knew the name of her man. I put the word out, but so far have come up blank. There’s some new dudes in town—Cubans. Marielitos. Meanest sons of bitches I’ve ever had the pleasure of dealing with. Into weird cult things—”

“Santeria?”

“You got it.”

“I worked with Miami PD for two years,” Decker said. “We had our fair share of Castro’s rejects.”

“So you know about the dudes,” Beauchamps said. “They threaten grave bodily harm to women with loose lips. Might be one of them owns Myra.”

“They have names?”

“I’ve crossed paths with only two. They actually weren’t so bad, because they were really young. But their older brothers and father…” Beauchamps waved his hand in the air and pursed his lips into a whistle. “One called himself Conquistador, the other was El Cid.”

Decker laughed.

“Yeah, real imaginative tags.” Beauchamps paused, then said, “Why are you so interested in Ms. Steele’s pimp?”

“I just want to know who he is,” Decker said. “A friend of mine was accused of raping ole Plum Pie, and before I pass sentence on the sucker, I’d like to make sure he’s really guilty of the crime.”

“The hillbilly gimp,” Beauchamps said.

Decker looked up. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“I was here when they booked him,” Beauchamps said. “They say he fucked her up pretty bad.”

“Well, he screwed her,” Decker said. “No doubt about that. But I don’t think he cut her.”

“You’re saying the pimp slashed her and she laid it on your friend?”

“It’s a possibility,” Decker said.

“Anything’s a possibility. Just a matter of how much you want to play ostrich.” Beauchamps paused. “I busted your buddy a while back.”

Decker winced. “When?”

“A year, maybe two years ago.”

“What for?”

“Soliciting an undercover police officer.”

“Female officer?”

“Yeah,” Beauchamps said, grinning. “She was female. I worked the van. He was hobbling around the mean streets, saw our lady, and took the bait. Didn’t seem the least bit upset when he was arrested.”