“This is easy money,” he said. “You don’t even have to get up.”

“Oooh, kinky,” Jewel said, and the trio exploded again.

Ochoa waited until their mirth had drifted off. Then he swung a chair over from the table behind him, made sure no one was watching, and slid three hundreds in front of each of them. “I’m not here for that,” he said. “I just want to talk.”

Jewel flipped the bills with the edge of her thumb. “This won’t even get us through five minutes at Nordstrom’s makeup counter,” she said.

“Sorry, I’m low budget.”

“Fed?”

“Sort of … Yes or no?”

The women took a silent poll, and nodded. Quickly, the nine hundred vanished.

“I’m not alone,” he said, motioning for Darlene to join them.

“Oh, you are a kinky one,” Debbi murmured, her accent Hispanic.

Darlene took the space next to Jewel.

“So who’s your cute friend?” MonicaBelle asked Ochoa.

“My name’s Brenda,” Darlene said.

Jewel’s pale blue eyes fixed on her, and for a moment Darlene thought her disguise had failed. Then the call girl simply smiled, nodded, and said, “How’re you doin’, Brenda?”

Ochoa was on his feet, hands on Darlene’s shoulders, ready to move out the door if necessary, but the scattered patrons in Chef Chen’s seem to be paying little, if any, attention to them.

Darlene motioned him back into his seat. “Ladies, this handsome guy is Victor. His job is to keep me safe, and thankfully, he’s very good at it.”

“He’s the one who sent that note to me at the agency, right?” Jewel asked.

“You got it,” Ochoa said.

“My kind of man,” MonicaBelle said. “Great hands. That’s how I judge a guy—by his hands.”

Darlene moved the group closer. “Listen, we need your help locating a girl whom we think you know. Can Victor show you some pictures?”

MonicaBelle appeared suspicious. “You gonna try and take back the cash if we don’t know her? Because—”

“No,” Darlene said. “The money is yours regardless.”

The girls took another quick poll, then shrugged their agreement.

“Okay,” Jewel said. “Show us what you got.”

Ochoa brought out a stack of police photographs. He and Darlene chose to avoid any of the ones Double M had taken with his cell phone. He spread the pictures across the table, arranging them so that each woman had some images to examine. Debbi and Jewel looked them over, but their expressions revealed nothing. MonicaBelle, on the other hand, connected with the girl right away.

“This is Angela,” she said.

Darlene tried to conceal her disappointment. “I’m sorry, I should have told you,” she said. “The girl’s name is Margo.”

“Yeah and my name’s Queen Latifah if the price is right,” MonicaBelle answered.

“What are you saying?” Ochoa leaned across the table to ask.