“You mean have sex for money,” Cal says.
She shrugs. “That’s between the girl and the gentleman.”
“But you told Kenzie there was a man who wanted to pay for her time,” I say. “You knew it was happening.”
“It’s my job to keep track of my girls.” Steph glowers at me. “If a gentleman wants to meet with one of them privately, I’ll find a place for them to be. If a girl freaks out and causes a scene, I’m expected to get her back in the van before she breaks anything. Sometimes girls don’t know how uptight they are until Grandpa puts his hand on their knee.”
I roll my eyes. That last dig was definitely meant for me.
“Do you know where McKenzie went off to?” Cal asks.
“No.” She shrugs. “I was told one of the usual guests wasn’t able to attend, so he sent a driver to fetch a girl.”
“Fetch her for what?”
She scoffs. “What do you think, detective?”
Cal pulls a small notepad from his pocket and flips to a middle page. “Who told you the absent gentleman specifically wanted McKenzie?”
“No one. Russell knows I bring quality—” Her gaze flits toward me. “—usually. He said pick a blonde, so I offered the job to McKenzie.”
“Why?” I take a step toward her. “You could’ve picked any other girl. Why’d you choose Kenzie?”
“Honestly?” Steph smirks, and I immediately want to rip her hair out. “She was desperate. I had no idea what this guy was into, but I know desperate girls are more likely to say yes to things.”
Anger curls my hands into fists. Cal clears his throat.
“Who’s the driver who picked McKenzie up?” he asks.
“I don’t know his name,” she says.
“Do you know who he works for?”
She shakes her head.
“So,” I say, “you sent Kenzie off in a stranger’s car, and you had no idea where she was going?”
“They don’t pay me to know things,” she says. “They pay me to provide fresh pussy, so that’s what I do. I don’t ask questions. These are powerful people. Public figures. You’re putting me at risk just by asking about this shit.”
“And we appreciate your candor,” Cal says. “Now, would Russell know who the driver works for?”
She takes a long drag off the joint. “Maybe.” She exhales. “I don’t know.”
“Who handles the guest list?”
“His assistant. Though I doubt anyone gets inside who Russell doesn’t approve of.” She squints at Cal like she’s trying to focus on a moving target. “Except you. I remember you. You were there that night.”
Finally, Steph’s husband, Ronald, pokes his head out the back door.
“Hey,” Ronald says. “How’d y’all get back here?”
“No need to ruin your buzz, Mr. Heartwell,” Cal says. “We were just leaving.”
“Russell didn’t say anything about me, did he?” Steph says, shaking her head. “This is bullshit. I’m done talking to you.”
“That’s fine, ma’am.” Cal stands and pockets his notepad. “Thank you for your time.”
“Aren’t you the one who always says you don’t need an official report to have a friendly chat?” Her smile doesn’t touch her eyes. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d see for myself if your hunch held water.”
“In other words, my methods are finally starting to rub off on you.” He snickers, claps her shoulder. “Holly, this is my partner, Abby.”
“Coates.” She holds out her hand for me to shake while keeping a shrewd eye on her partner. “What’s she doing here? Never mind, you shouldn’t even be here.”
Cal spreads his arms wide. “Yet, here I stand.”
“I take it you’ve already spoken with the Heartwells.”