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for a cop, even when they might not reflect reality. A bird in hand, in this case a bird named Louise Watkins.
    The phone rang. She allowed it to sound four times before the answering machine, which was next to the TV, picked up. After her outgoing message, the caller grunted and hung up.
    “Another one,” she said flatly.
    “Another what?”
    “Another call. I received two last night.”
    “From whom?”
    “I don’t know. A man. Both times he said something like, ‘Don’t be stupid.’”
    “That’s all he said?”
    “Yes. And there have been two others like that one just now. He hangs up.”
    “Has this happened before?” Brixton asked.
    “No. Never.”
    Brixton stood, arching against a pain. “Excuse me,” he said, “bad back.”
    “Would you like an aspirin?” she asked.
    “What? Oh, no, no thanks.”
    He walked to the bookcase and brought the photo of the six girls back to her. “Schoolmates?” he asked.
    “No, Mr. Brixton. That was taken at a retreat at CVA.”
    “The Christian Vision Academy on Ogeechee Road?”
    “Yes. The school held a retreat, inviting young girls of color to their campus for a weekend, sort of an outreach to bring the races closer together. It was a nice gesture. Louise didn’t want to go but I insisted. From the looks of things in the picture she had herself a good time. She told me she did when she got home.”
    Brixton cleared his throat before saying, “I need to ask you a question, Mrs. Watkins. I don’t mean to upset you but—”
    “You go right ahead and ask any question you wish, Mr. Brixton. Most of my upset is behind me.”
    “Yeah. Well, when Louise was on the streets as a—as a prostitute—did she work for anybody?”
    She looked puzzled.
    “Did she have a boss, a pimp, a guy who managed her, if that’s what you’d call it?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Did she ever mention any of the other women she worked with?”
    “No. Louise never said anything about those times. She was embarrassed enough, I suppose, that I even knew.”
    “How did you know?”
    “She called when she was arrested. I bailed her out.”
    “Well, thank you, ma’am, for the talk and the sweet tea. It was excellent.”
    He picked up the photo of the six girls again and looked closely at it before returning it to the bookcase.
    “I was so pleased that Louise went to that retreat,” Mrs. Watkins said. “Maybe if she’d spent more time with girls like that she wouldn’t have strayed into trouble the way she did.”
    Brixton didn’t know whether she was right or not and didn’t comment.
    “But I suppose that wasn’t possible. Louise didn’t have much opportunity to be with young women like those in the picture. They come from—”
    “The other side of town?”
    “Yes, I suppose you could put it like that, Mr. Brixton. Thank you for coming all this way to see me.”
    “Next time I hope to have more to report.”
    “Would you be needing another check?”
    “No, ma’am, not yet. Thanks for the hospitality. I’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER   5

    Cynthia was in a foul mood when Brixton returned to the office. Her husband, Jim, had done too good a job of weaving scary ghost stories into his commentary during one of the tours he’d hosted the night before, causing a mother with two frightened, small children to complain loudly about his lack of sensitivity where children were concerned.
    “What’d Jim say?” Brixton asked.
    “He told her that if she didn’t want her precious little darlings to be afraid, she shouldn’t take them on a ghost tour.”
    “Sounds reasonable to me,” Brixton said.
    “She complained to the tour operator and demanded her money back.”
    “You husband was right,” Brixton said.
    “Not if he loses his job. You got a call from an attorney who’s looking for an investigator. Here’s his number.”
    “Thanks.”
    Brixton returned the attorney’s call and made an appointment to meet with him later that afternoon. His next call was