He shrugged. “A year, maybe. Give or take.” Johnny Blue sucked on the cigarette, blew out the smoke impatiently. “I was real sad when I found out she’d met a sticky end, but I can’t say I was completely surprised.”

“You weren’t surprised she was murdered?” Holliday asked.

“Well, yeah, I was surprised someone went as far as cutting her up like that. What I meant was I wasn’t surprised she ended up getting herself into trouble.”

“How so?” Holliday said.

“Far as I could tell, Eleanor did okay for money here. It wasn’t just me who liked her. She was a popular girl. That stage was always covered in cash after she finished every performance. But it wasn’t enough for her, if you believe the rumors.”

“What rumors?” Jessica asked.

“From what I heard, she was entertaining some of the regulars outside of work, and it wasn’t just a lap dance she was offering, if you catch my drift? What went on behind closed doors I don’t know for sure. All I can tell you is what I saw with my own eyes. More than once, there would be a cab waiting at the curb out front, engine running, one of the regulars in the backseat, waiting for Eleanor to finish her shift.”

“She was turning tricks?” Holliday asked.

“If she was, that’s not all she was doing. Again, if the rumors were to be believed, that is.”

“What do you mean?” Jessica said.

“Blackmail.” Johnny Blue took a final deep drag on the cigarette and flicked the butt away. “The story doing the rounds was that Eleanor had a boyfriend. Some kid who would snap photos of her with the customers looking all cozy going into hotels or kissing on street corners. Anything that might get a guy into bother with his wife if she were to come into possession of photographic evidence of him getting up to no good.”

“You recognize any of these guys?” Jessica pulled the envelope containing the photographs they’d found at the murder house from her bag and handed them to Johnny Blue.

He looked through them all and laughed. “So the rumors were true, huh? Yeah, one or two look familiar. Don’t ask me for names, though. It’s the girls I remember, not the other guys.”

Jessica pointed to the photo of the man who had looked familiar to her. “What about him?”

Johnny Blue shook his head. “Nah, don’t recognize him. But it was a long time ago. I’ve seen a lot of faces come and go over the years.”

“You’re not in any of these photos,” she said. “You were never involved with Eleanor Lavelle beyond drinks and dancing at the club?”