I held my temper. Joey was playing with me, testing my limits. “I like men. I even love some men. I just get real bored with them when they take their clothes off.”

“That so?” Zeke asked, looking me over. “You oughtta come up to my place sometime.”

“Why? You got a good-looking daughter?” I replied.

Zeke didn’t like my answer, but Joey guffawed and even Mr. Silent snickered. Zeke was probably in his fifties, short, his balding head shiny with sweat.

“No wonder you’re doing this kind of shit,” Zeke retorted. His implication was clear. Whatever was in those boxes was about sex and it wasn’t missionary position.

“It’s late. We’d better get going,” Joey said. But he didn’t hurry; he was still enjoying Zeke’s discomfort.

“No harm meant,” Zeke said to Joey, keeping his “eyes on the prize,” so to speak. Joey wasn’t the top dog, that was clear, but he was the connection to the top dog.

Joey nodded, then said, “You want another beer, Mick?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t touched the one I had.

“You want something else?” Zeke asked me. I was the assistant to the top dog’s connection.

“No, I’m fine,” I answered politely.

“Well, you come by any time you want. Any friend of Joey’s is a friend of mine.”

I merely smiled at his generous offer.

“I’ll call you in a few days,” Joey told Zeke as he stood up.

I slid off the file cabinet. Zeke, proper gentleman that he was, also stood up. I stepped over Mr. Silent, who didn’t budge an inch. As I passed by Mr. Unfriendly, I handed him my untouched beer. “Here, you look like you need this more than I do.” He almost smiled at me. I had made a new friend.

Joey said good-bye to Zeke, then joined me in the hallway.

“Did you count the boxes?” he asked.

“No,” I lied.

Joey headed for the storeroom. I followed and watched while he counted boxes.

“Thirty-nine,” he said. “That’s not right. Goddamn, they shorted me one.”

“Why don’t we both count?” I suggested.

Joey started on one side and I started on the other. Several piles of boxes that had been stacked haphazardly, making it hard to count. I clambered between the boxes to get close enough to see what I was doing. One pile had a dangerous lean to it. I could see why Mr. Unfriendly and Mr. Silent hadn’t done too well on the competitive career track of unloading trucks and had been forced into a life of crime.

“Those guys are assholes,” Joey commented as he noticed the off-kilter stack.

The leaning tower of boxes began to fall over. I was able to catch the stack and keep it from going all the way down. Joey joined me, moving the boxes to a safer location while I held the weight. The bottom box had split open.

“So, what’s in there?” I asked, able to see nothing clearly through the damaged box.

“You really want to know?”

“Like I said, ‘Knowledge is power.’”

Joey shrugged and picked up the box. “Some of this stuff is fucked anyway,” he said as he opened it up. “Karen’s money paid for this,” he added.

No emotions, play his game, I cautioned myself. It wasn’t neatly bound, like the one in O’Connor’s office. A cheap paper cover, now torn, was the only barrier hiding these pictures. I shrugged as Joey handed it to me, feigning a nonchalance and disinterest I didn’t feel.

“This is where the money is,” Joey obviously felt some need for explanation. “Cheap-shit pictures. Guys pay big bucks for them.”

“Cheap labor, too,” I commented. Keep him talking, find out as much as you can.

“Yeah,” Joey gave a nervous laugh, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Where do you get this stuff?”

“You get a camera, you take a picture.”

“You?”

“Not me. Some other people.”

“Here?”

“Around here. I try to keep away from that part of it.”

“Why?”

“Hard to spend the money when you’re in jail. I don’t take pictures or do any of that shit, so why hang around and risk it?”

“Makes sense to me.” I shrugged. “Can I have this?”

Joey looked at me, trying to figure out why I wanted pictures of men having sex with children.

“Revenge,” I explained. “This could be real embarrassing if it were found in somebody’s desk.”

“Hey, good idea. I never thought of that.” Then after a moment more, he added, “But can you hold off for a few weeks? I can’t have this turning up some place weird when it’s supposed to be sitting here in a box.”

“Sure, no problem. Revenge is best when it’s least expected.” I had to resist skimming through the pictures to look for Cissy. If I found her, Joey might not survive it. “So, let’s count these boxes.”

We counted, or Joey counted and I pretended to count.

“Forty,” he said when he finished. “Is that what you got?”

“Forty, it is.”

“With one box damaged. Let’s get out of here.”

I couldn’t agree more. I tightly rolled up the porn magazine, holding it in my fist like a weapon. I wondered what a good shrink, seeing my body language, would think. I followed Joey out, waiting as he padlocked the door. At the far end of the hallway, one of the prostitutes was leading a man upstairs. Neither of them looked at us. No one else was in the hall. We left, using the back alley door.

“You know, you forgot one thing,” Joey said, turning to me. We were alone in the dark alley.

“Yeah? What’s that?” I tensed, ready for a fight, wondering if he had a gun.

“You forgot to ask just how much you get paid.”

“So how much do I get paid?” I asked, keeping the relief out of my voice. “And when? I need some bucks.”

“You should always ask that, you know.”

“Next time I will. But let’s be real, I need the money too much to squabble over what you’ll pay me. You were fair on the Colombé deal; you’ll be fair here. And if you want to screw me, you’ll screw me no matter what you say up front.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Anyway, you get half-a-K for tonight’s work,” Joey answered. “I’ll get it to you in a few days.”

We got into Joey’s car, and he pulled out of the alley onto the street. He didn’t take Desire, cutting over to Louisa instead. For a while Joey elaborated on all the reasons I should buy the same kind of car he had. I listened politely for a bit, giving him a chance to justify his choice until I judged it wouldn’t be impolite to change the subject on him.

“How’d you get Karen involved?” I asked.

“She had money, I had a place to spend it.”

“Just like that, huh? What made her spend the money on you?”

“Charm, good looks.” Joey reflected for a moment. “Probably being at the Sans Pareil. She didn’t know I was a poor boy from Lake Charles. You get in a place like that and say ‘surefire money maker,’ and their eyes just glisten. Rich people always want more money. I was in the right place, and I made money for Karen. She didn’t ask too many questions.”

“Why’d you have to get the compromising picture?”

“Hey, every business deal has to have insurance. That was mine. It came in handy. It got Karen to roll over a few more times after she wanted to pull out. Besides that, if I hadn’t leaned on Karen a bit, she wouldn’t have called you and we never would’ve met.”

“An odd spin of fortune’s wheel.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Joey didn’t seem to quite know what to make of my metaphor. “Don’t worry about Karen. She’s got enough money to go around.”