Free Hugger Mugger by Robert B. Parker Page B

“It’s such a pleasant night.”
    We sat in a couple of rocking chairs and looked out across the dark lawn at the quiet street. There was a good breeze blowing past us and it must have discouraged the bugs, because there weren’t any.
    â€œThis is not a whorehouse,” Polly Brown said. “I run an escort service. My girls come to you.”
    â€œI’m not here for that,” I said.
    â€œI know why you’re here, I was just clarifying my situation. The ‘you’ was generalized.”
    â€œOf course it was,” I said. “You don’t sound southern.”
    â€œI’m from Cincinnati,” she said. “Went to college and everything.”
    â€œHow’d you end up here?”
    â€œI have no idea,” she said.
    We were quiet again, rocking in the near darkness.
    â€œSo what would you like to know about Pud Potter?” she said.
    â€œI gather he availed himself of your services.”
    â€œOften,” she said.
    â€œBut not here.”
    â€œI told you.”
    â€œYes, you did, so where?”
    â€œWhere would I send the girl?”
    â€œYes. I assume it wasn’t to his house.”
    â€œOh, wouldn’t that be smart,” she said. “ ‘Hello, Mrs. Potter, I’m here to fuck your husband.’ ”
    â€œSo where?” I said.
    â€œHe keeps a room and bath in town. Just off the square.”
    â€œGlad to hear there’s a bath,” I said.
    â€œSo what’s the problem?” Polly said.
    â€œMy question exactly,” I said. “He ever cause trouble or anything?”
    â€œPud? Hell no, he’s a sweetheart. Lotta the girls liked him because he’d be too drunk to actually do anything and they’d get paid anyways.”
    â€œHow about the law?” I said. “He ever have any trouble there?”
    â€œNope. I run a clean operation, pay my dues, the law leaves me alone.”
    â€œIncluding Becker?”
    â€œThe black deputy-in-charge?”
    â€œUn-huh.”
    â€œI have no problem with him.”
    â€œYou pay him off?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOperation like this pays off somebody,” I said.
    She rocked a little and didn’t say anything. She was small enough so that her feet only touched the floor when she rocked forward.
    â€œBut not Becker,” she said.
    â€œKnow a guy named Delroy?”
    â€œMaybe. What’s he do?”
    â€œPrivate security,” I said. “On behalf of Pud’s father-in-law.”
    â€œYes. I know him.”
    A silver Volvo station wagon went slowly past us onthe empty street, its headlights bright and silent.
    â€œTell me about him?”
    â€œOne of the girls tried to supplement her income,” Polly said, “by putting the squeeze on Pud.”
    â€œThreaten to tell his wife?”
    â€œWorse. She rigged a Polaroid and got some pictures during the gig.”
    â€œWhich she threatened to show his wife.”
    â€œAnd everybody else, I believe.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd Delroy came down and explained the facts of life to her.”
    â€œWhich were?”
    â€œI never asked.”
    â€œCan I talk with her?”
    Polly shrugged.
    â€œIf you can find her,” she said. “Name’s Jane Munroe.”
    â€œYou know where I should look?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œShe doesn’t work for you anymore?”
    â€œNo. I fired her before Delroy even talked to her.”
    â€œHe talk to you first?”
    â€œYes. He suggested I fire her, but I would have anyway. Nothing kills a good client list like some whore threatening to blab.”
    â€œIs Jane still in town?”
    â€œI’m not their mother,” Polly said. “I manage their professional lives. I have no idea where Jane Munroe is, or if she’s still using the name.”
    â€œWas Delroy polite?”
    â€œVery businesslike,” she said.
    â€œHe threaten you?”
    â€œDidn’t