Jonathan Kellerman - Bones

“The limp?”

“There’s guys be liking it,” said the hooker. “Maybe I should get myself a dee-fect.”

Duchesne was open about his “new business plan.”

“Lately I’ve been using Craigslist to set up appointments.”

Milo said, “Being business-like I’m sure you keep all the e-mails and phone numbers?”

Duchesne flashed ragged canines and black gaps. “Like I said, lately, just a few weeks.”

“How do you fill vacant slots?”

Hesitation. “I supplement the old-fashioned way.”

Milo said, “Sidewalk displays.”

Duchesne fingered an empty tooth socket. “I like to think of it as real-time marketing.” On top of his drug arrests, he’d been busted five times for procuring, considered jail time and fines “corporate overhead.”

Milo said, “Joys of the business world.”

“Got a degree in business administration, Lieutenant. University of Utah, graduated twenty-one years ago and worked for IBM, and that’s the truth. Call them to verify.”

“I believe you, Joe Otto. Tell me about Sheralyn.”

“You really think it’s her?”

“Can’t be sure, but she fits the body we found.”

Duchesne nodded. “The leg. I met her last winter-February, I think. Maybe January-no, February. She just got into town, was hanging around, cold, lonely. I took her in ’cause no one else did.”

“Why not?”

“The leg situation. Poor thing had trouble being on her feet for stretches of time, cut down on her productivity. I got her all kinds of different shoes. Insoles, inserts, gel pads, you name it. Nothing really helped, but she wouldn’t give up. Hard worker, nice girl.”

“You liked her.”

“Nice girl,” Duchesne repeated. “Not the sharpest scimitar in the scabbard, but she had… personal warmth. I took her in to be kind, but the leg ended up working out okay.”

“How so?”

“A certain consumer segment was attracted to it.”

“Guys who like limps,” said Milo.

“Guys who like vulnerability.”

“Anyone ever take advantage of her vulnerability, Joe Otto?”

“No, sir,” said Duchesne. “That’s what I’m here for.” Puffing a sunken chest and curling a scrawny fist, the embodiment of pretentiousness.

Watching the screen, Moe Reed shook his head.

Milo said, “No one ever got rough with her, Joe Otto?”

“Never.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“Lieutenant, she only worked for me a month and it was a smooth month.”

“What did she tell you about herself?”

“Just up from Oceanside. Military maneuvers, heh heh. Military police decided to crack down on fun, made her situation tense. Doesn’t seem fair, right? We send those young boys over to fight for our liberties and they can’t even enjoy a few moments of shore leave?”

“So she came up to L.A. ”

“Greener pastures,” said Duchesne.

“She talk much about her life in Oceanside?”

“She said she had a kid and her mother was taking care of it.”

“In Oceanside?”

“She didn’t specify. Didn’t say if it was a boy or a girl and I didn’t pry.” Duchesne’s runny eyes tightened. “Keeping it business-like, you know?”

Milo nodded. “Give me something to work with, Joe Otto.”

“That’s it-oh, yeah, she said she’d been married to a navy man but he abandoned her early on. Can’t tell you if any of it’s true, but I don’t see the point of lying about details like that.” Duchesne wiggled a loose canine. “Lieutenant, if it’s her you found, I’m feeling wistful. Here I was thinking she abandoned me. I should’ve known she wouldn’t.”

“She just up and left?”

“Here one day, gone the next,” said Duchesne. “Last time I saw her, she was happy. I come back and she’s gone, her stuff’s gone, no note, no forwarding.” Frown. “Truth be told, I was baffled.”

“Why wouldn’t she abandon you?”

“Because I treated her better than anyone she’d ever known. Still…”

“What?” said Milo.

“With girls, you can never tell. Could I trouble you for a Coke?”

“Sure.”

Moe Reed got up. Moments later, he was back in the side room and Duchesne was guzzling from a twelve-ounce can.

“Joe Otto, what do you think drew Sheralyn away from you?”

“That’s what I kept asking, Lieutenant. Maybe something to do with her kid, her mother. But I didn’t have any numbers to follow up on.”

“Could be a better gig came along.”

Duchesne’s mouth shut tight.

“That possible, Joe Otto?”

“Better like what?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m a fair man and she was happy.”

Milo watched him drink soda.

Duchesne put the can down, belched. “I took her in when no one else did.”

“Do you have any idea who’d want to hurt her?”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d want to hurt her. The world being what it is. Can I specify? Unfortunately not. When she worked for me there were no problems.”

“She have any regulars?”

Slow head shake. “Those take time to cultivate. Truth be told, she worked for me maybe… twenty nights.”

“During that time where’d she live?”

“With me.”

“Where’s that?”

“Various places,” said Duchesne. “I prefer not to be tied down.”

“Motels.”

“And such.”

Milo pressed him for names. Duchesne hesitated, ran off a few, asked for another Coke. After he’d drained it, Milo slid a six-pack photo display across the table. Half a dozen shaved-head white men arranged in two rows, Travis Huck in the bottom right-hand position.

“One of these guys did it?” said Duchesne.

“Recognize any of them?”

Duchesne studied the images, one by one. Spending the same glassy-eyed ten seconds on each. Shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“Do you recall any other cueballs on Sheralyn’s customer list?”

“Cueballs.” Duchesne was amused. “Nope, sorry again.”

“Joe Otto,” said Milo. “You liked her, you were the one took her in. Now someone’s done her up really badly.”

“I know, I know… truth be told, Sheralyn’s professional activity was always after dark and I had other employees operating simultaneously.”

“You never saw her johns.”

“Not… always,” said Duchesne. “There was a problem, I’d get beeped.” He pushed out his thorax again. “And there was none.”

His left leg began bouncing. Stopped.

Milo said, “Joe Otto, something’s at the back of your mind right now. Maybe something to do with a bald guy?”

Duchesne’s eyes sparked with alarm. “You’re a psychic, friend?”

“I know when someone’s troubled.”

“Why would I be troubled?”

“Because you cared about Sheralyn, know she wouldn’t just leave you, meaning someone snatched her and maybe that same person left her lying around like trash.”

Duchesne’s spider fingers squeezed the empty can, tried to crush it, ended up inflicting a minor dent. He placed it to the side, worked the tooth socket some more.

“Joe Otto?”

“There was a guy. But not with Sheralyn, before Sheralyn.”

“Another girl.”

Nod. “I got beeped because he got freaky. Like you said, cueball, she’s all breathing hard and telling me to look out for a skinhead. Time I got to the room, he was gone.”

“This girl get hurt?”

“Minor bruise. She was a big girl, could take care of herself.”

“What was the guy’s freak, Joe Otto?”

“Wanted to tie her up, we get that all the time, say no. When she said no, this one pulled a knife. Not a normal knife, looked like a medical thing. That’s what she called it.”