"We have a car parked around the corner," Cheney said without preamble.
"So?"
"So we could have a little talk. Just the three of us."
"About what?"
"Life in general, Lorna Kepler in particular."
Danielle's eyes were fixed on mine. "Who's she?"
"This is Kinsey. Lorna's mother hired her."
"This is not a bust," she said warily.
"Oh, come on, Danielle. It's not a bust. She's a private investigator looking into Lorna's death."
"Because I'm telling you, Cheney, you set me up for something, you could get me in real trouble."
"It's not a setup. It's a meeting. She'll pay your regular rates."
I gave Cheney a look. I'd have to pay the little twerp?
Danielle's gaze raked the parking lot and then strayed in my direction. "I don't do women," she said sullenly.
I leaned forward and said, "Hey, me neither. In case anybody gives a shit."
Cheney ignored me and addressed himself to her. "What are you afraid of?"
"What am I afraid of?" she said, finger pointing to her own chest. Her nails were bitten to the quick. "I'm afraid of Lester, for one thing. I'm afraid of losing my teeth. I'm afraid Mr. Dickhead's going to flatten my nose again. The guy's a bastard, a real prick…"
"You should have pressed charges. I told you that the last time," Cheney said.
"Oh, right. I should have gone ahead and checked into the morgue, saved myself that messy middle step," she snapped.
"Come on. Help us out," Cheney coaxed.
She thought about it, looking off into the dark. Finally, grudgingly, she said, "I'll talk to her, not to you."
"That's all I'm asking."
"I'm not doing it because you're asking. I'm doing it for Lorna. And just this once. I mean it. I don't want you to set me up like this again."
Cheney grinned seductively. "You're too perfect."
Danielle made a face, mimicking his manner, which she wasn't buying for a minute. She headed off toward the street, talking back across her shoulder. "Let's get it over with before Lester shows up."
Cheney walked us to the car, where we went through the requisite door-wrenching exercise. The ensuing squawk was so loud, a couple halfway down the block stopped necking long enough to see what kind of creature we were torturing. I took the passenger seat and let Danielle take the driver's side in case she needed to make a hasty getaway. Whoever Lester was, I was getting nervous myself.
Cheney leaned toward the wing window. "Back in a bit."
"You see Lester, don't you tell him where I'm at," she warned.
"Trust me," Cheney said.
"Trust him. What a joke," she said to no one in particular.
We watched him through the front windshield as he disappeared into the dark. I sat there hoping her Monday night rates were low. I couldn't remember how much cash I had on me, and I didn't think she'd take my Visa, which was maxed out anyway.
"You can smoke if you want," I said, thinking to ingratiate myself.
"I don't smoke," she said, offended. "Smoking wrecks your health. Know how much we pay in this country for smoking-related illnesses? Fifteen billion a year. My father died of emphysema. It was like walking suffocation every day of his life. Eyes bugging out. He's breathing… he's like this…" She paused to demonstrate, hand on her chest. The sounds she made were a combination of rasping and choking. "And he can't get any air. It's a horrible way to die. Dragging around this old oxygen tank. You better quit while you're ahead."
"I don't smoke. I thought you might. I was being polite."
"Don't be polite on my account," she said. "I hate smoking. It's very bad for you, plus it stinks." Danielle looked around then, regarding the interior of the VW with distaste. "What a pigsty. You could get a disease sitting in this thing."
"At least you know he's not on the take," I said.
"Cops in this town don't take money," she said. "They have too much fun sticking people in the can. He's got a much nicer car, but he's too paranoid to bring it down here. So. Enough with the chitchat, get-to-know-you bullshit. What do you want to know about Lorna?"
"As much as you can tell me. How long did you know her?"
Danielle's mouth pulled down in a facial shrug. "Couple of years. We met working for this escort service. She was a good person. She was like a mother to me. She was my what-do-you-call-'em… mentor… only now I see I should have listened to her more."