For some reason, Edith did not want George and her daughter left alone.

George smiled at them as he waved them off a little later. Then, climbing into his car, he made his way to the Orange Blossom Trail.

Duane Portillo watched the little family climbing into the large Lincoln Continental. A few minutes later he followed George Markham out towards the Orange Blossom Trail.

Linette Du Bouverie was what was known on the trail as an ‘ornery’ whore. She was petite and a natural redhead. But she sure was ‘ornery’. She was known as the loudest, most foul-mouthed and argumentative woman on the Trail. Her vicious mouth was hated by other whores, pimps and police, in that order. She was a heroin addict and needed her daily fixes desperately. Linette would take a man on for a measly five dollars if necessary.

Today she was banging on the door of the little one-roomed apartment of Elvis Carmody.

Elvis was a pusher of uncertain creed. He had black wiry hair and the reddish skin colour of a Mexican. His mother, a hooker, used to joke that he was her Heinz 57. She never knew who fathered him. Elvis had built himself a business of sorts. He supplied heroin, crack, dope, uppers, downers . . . anything, in fact, that he could lay his hands on. He opened the apartment door to Linette and whistled at her through his teeth.

‘You look terrible, baby!’

She walked into the room on her high heels. She was having trouble focusing properly in the dim light. Somewhere in the room she heard the rustle of bedclothes and, peering through the dimness, made out the shape and face of a little Puerto Rican hooker named Marigold. She swore under her breath. If Elvis had just had some ass he was not going to come across to her and give her a little bit on account.

‘What can I do for you, Linette?’ Already Elvis wanted rid of her.

‘I need a fix. I’ll pay you in about an hour, man, there’s nothing going down in the street just yet. Once it’s dark the place will be buzzing.’

Elvis lit a Marlboro and blew out the smoke noisily. ‘No way, baby, you still owe me twenty bucks from yesterday.’

Linette felt her famous temper rising. Going to the bed, she grabbed Marigold’s hair.

‘You’d give her some, though, wouldn’t you, you motherfucking creep? I’ll pay you the goddam’ money, but first I need me a little bit on account.’

Elvis walked to her and untangled her fingers from the girl’s hair. Marigold had not batted an eyelid.

Taking Linette by the scruff of her neck, he ran her to the doorway and threw her on to the dirty floor outside.

‘Why don’t you quit annoying people, Linette? If you didn’t have such a bad attitude, people might be more inclined to help you.’