“When he came back,” she said, “he told me I’d get a nice finder’s fee, if anything come of it. I said, so you got hold of Buster? And he said, no. He’d called Joe Costello. The Coral Court was Costello’s turf. So, obviously, was the cab business, and of course that cabbie Hagan was involved.”

“And did you get a finder’s fee from Joe?”

“No. And when it became obvious Costello and Shoulders had taken that ransom dough, I told Joe I wanted a piece. I led him to that windfall! He scored three hundred grand—ten percent for pointing him to it was a bargain. I said I wanted thirty grand or I’d turn his pale ass in.”

I sipped rum and Coke. “Where that money came from didn’t bother you?”

The wide red mouth twitched. “Money doesn’t know where it comes from.”

I’d said that myself enough times; how could I judge her?

But she was sitting in judgment on herself, somewhat at least, saying, “I wanted that money. I was human, poor and desperate. I had my own kid, who was alive and hungry. And I wasn’t really thinking past the payoff.”

“You’re lucky to be alive, you know.”

“Oh I know,” she said, embarrassed. “But I always got along with Joe Costello pretty well. He’d been decent to me. I was one of his Ace Cab girls. And he’s the one who set me up at the Coral Court with the…escort service. I’ve never had to do much but make phone calls and play house mother to a few of the younger girls, till they get broke in.”

“So him setting up the service, that was how he paid you off?”

She shook her head and the short dark hair bounced. “No, he still me owed me. And here I was kicking back money to him and his cabbies on their, you know, referrals. Not that my cut was unfair or anything. But, Heller, man, I’m sick of the life. I’m gonna be forty. No. I’m already forty. Fuck, I’m already forty-two.”

“You’re a swell-looking forty-two, kid.”

“Thanks. But I don’t wanna be part of the life anymore. I got my eye on a cozy restaurant back east. Medium-size burg with nice people, nice schools for my little girl. Not so little now—junior high.”

“So then it was Costello you went to see today, huh? To ask for what he owed you?”

The gray-blue eyes flared. “No!…Yes. I, uh, said I’d settle for ten grand. I can secure that little restaurant for that and stay with some people till it gets going. I said I’d turn the whole escort business over to him.”

“And he said?”

“Joe told me he didn’t owe me a damn thing. And that the escort service was his and Carr’s, and go to hell. So. Is me coming forward with this worth ten grand?”

“Is it?”

Our food came. It was delicious. We said not a word. Not even pass the salt. Coffee came.