Page 63 of Long Way Down

Melissa bit back her automaticshut upand gestured impatiently at Pongo.

“Okay, so.” He took one more bite and then settled his elbows on the table with an air of getting serious. “A few months back, a guy bought nights with three different girls. Tall, white, strong,” he said, holding up a hand before she could ask. “He had a hat, and a hood, and he wanted them to turn the lights off in the rooms, so nobody got a good look at him. They said he acted weird. Aggressive. He hit the second girl, and the third one pulled a knife on him and managed to stab him with it. He ran out bleeding. But they all knew it was the same guy because, in the middle of things, he would say, ‘This one’s for you, Davey,’ over and over.”

Melissa shared a look with Contreras.

He nodded. “Sounds like our guy alright. Although, I’m wondering…” His gaze slid back to Pongo. “How much yourfriendhere told you.” It wasn’t accusatory. Yet.

“Oh, she doesn’t tell me anything,” Pongo said, easily. “But she wanted to watch that movie –Tribute– the other night, and then the next day I heard about that other working girl – she told you, yeah? – and I put two and two together.” He tapped his own temple. “I’m pretty sharp like that.”

Contreras blinked at him, clearly taken aback.

“He’s just like this,” Melissa said. “You get used to it.”

“Aw,” Pongo said. “You’re used to me. That’s sweet.”

She’d walked right into one of his little traps, and kicked herself for it.

Contreras glanced between them. “Holy shit. Please subject your families to this for Thanksgiving. And film it. I wanna watch.”

Melissa dragged over a fresh notepad and a pen from the center of the table. “Timeline, then,” she said, in a voice meant to redirect them. It worked. “You said this happened a few months ago. Can you narrow it down?”

“She said springtime.”

“That puts us late February to May, potentially.”

“They noticed his coat was too bulky for the weather. It was warm, she said.”

She said. Melissa tried to push that aside and made a note on her pad. “April or May, then. March was still really cold this year.”

“It was only the three girls?” Contreras asked. When he got a nod, he said, “Back-to-back nights? Or spread out?”

“A week or more in between,” Pongo said. “Close enough that they remembered him, but long enough that it was a bit of a surprise. That was the impression I got, anyway.”

“Your impression?” Melissa said. “We have to go off dates, not impressions.”

“Well.” He shrugged. “None of this is admissible anyway, is it? ‘Cause none of them went on the record with you guys. But I think it might help give you other places to look.”

She sighed, but nodded. He wasn’twrong, exactly.

“If we showed up down at the Dirty Dog,” Contreras said, “do you think they’d talk to us?”

Pongo shook his head. “I mean, you could try. But these girls are careful about what they tell to who. I had a hard time getting the one to talk to me.”

“How’d you know to look there?” Melissa asked, genuinely curious. “Club intel? Or were you just cruising all the brothels asking around?”

“I had help from a friend,” he said, and smirked. “You might like him, come to think of it. He’s real grumpy like you are.”

“I am not–” she started, and then caught herself.

He snorted.

“Dixon said there was another vic you knew about,” Contreras said. “Someone on the street who had the words cut into her back.”

Pongo nodded, growing serious. “Yeah. I saw the scabs myself. Her, uh, employer is mad as hell. Wants blood. If this dude keeps targeting working girls, he’s gonna wind up dead.”

“And do the world a favor,” Contreras said. “Alright.” He stuck out his hand. “Pongo, it was a pleasure to meet you, man. Don’t give up on this one.” He tilted his head toward Melissa and winked. “She’s a hard nut, but worth cracking, I think.”

Pongo grinned. “Yeah.”

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