“Yes, it is. But Janice isn’t strictly a prostitute.”
“No?”
“No. Are you a gambling man, Señor Quilmes?”
The question caught him off-stride. He frowned slightly, the first break in his stoic demeanor, before he said, “I do not understand.”
“It’s a simple question. Do you gamble? Poker, roulette, other games of chance?”
“I fail to see the relevance.”
“Please answer the question.”
Pretty soon he said, “I fly to San Francisco once a year for business purposes, but not always directly from Buenos Aires. I often spend a few days in Las Vegas.”
“The acquaintance who arranged your date with Janice wouldn’t happen to be headquartered there, would he?”
“That is of no consequence. I still fail to see how my recreational activities are connected to the disappearance of this young woman.”
“Janice is a gambler. A compulsive gambler. That’s why she sells her body—to pay for her habit and her debts.”
“A pity. But what connection does this have to me?”
“Do you gamble while you’re in San Francisco?”
“Seldom,” Quilmes said. “Not at all on this visit.”
“Do you know any gamblers here?”
Another slight hesitation before he said, “I do not.” Territory he didn’t want to be breached. He finished his drink, placed his hands flat on the table. The planes of his face had a solidified look, like skin molded too tight over bone. “I did not meet Janice at a gambling establishment. I had never seen her before Saturday night, as I told you. I know nothing of her life or her disappearance. Are you satisfied now?”
“Unless you have anything more to tell me.”
He said with a kind of harsh dignity, “I have allowed myself to be stripped naked in front of a stranger. There is nothing more for you to see or know.”
“I hope not, Señor Quilmes. Thanks for your time.” The black eyes followed me as I got to my feet, moved away. I could feel them on my back, the cold hate in them, all the way out of the lounge.
It was nearly five by the time I got back to the agency. Tamara was alone in her office, involved with somebody on the phone. I closed the connecting door between our offices, sat down at my desk. Time to check in with Mitchell Krochek.
He must have been draped over his phone; he answered in the middle of the first ring. He sounded less frantic than he had when I’d left him earlier. Booze was the calming influence; he didn’t exactly slur his words, but they had a kind of liquidy glide. Yes, he’d followed my instructions, stayed home all day. For nothing. He hadn’t heard from Janice or anybody else; no calls, no visitors.
“I talked to some of the neighbors,” he said. “Made up a story to explain why I was asking. None of them saw Janice or anybody else around here on Tuesday. I even called her sister in Bakersfield. They’re not close, but I thought maybe … you know. Ellen hasn’t heard from her in months.”
“Did your wife ever mention a company called QCL, Incorporated?”
He repeated the name. “I don’t think so. No, never heard of it. What kind of company is it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Then why’re you asking me about it?”
“Carl Lassiter either works for QCL or owns it.” That was as much as I was going to tell him at this juncture. If he needed to know about his wife’s prostitution, I’d give him the information when the time came.
“You talk to this man Lassiter?” Krochek asked.
“Not yet.”
“Crissake, why not? He must be the one who beat her up-”
“Not necessarily. And he doesn’t necessarily have to have anything to do with what happened in your kitchen.”
“Who the hell else then?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,” I said. “I’ve asked you this before, but are you sure you don’t know any of her gambling associates? Any local poker club or casino where she was a regular?”
“Positive,” Krochek said. “She never talked about it. Hell, I didn’t want to know any of those people or places. Why should I? I couldn’t make them stop her from throwing my money away.”
“Would any of her friends know? The nongambling variety, I mean.”
“I doubt it. She cut them off, what few she had, when she caught that goddamn fever of hers.”
“Call them, see if they can tell you anything. Anything at all that might help.”
“All right.”
“One more question. You and your wife made trips to Las Vegas together. Do you know if she went there alone after she got hooked?”