Once she accepted Chance's offer, everything was taken care of. Chance moved her out of her place on West Ninety-fourth and installed her where she was now. He took her out, showed her off, took her to bed. In bed he told her precisely what to do, and she found this curiously exhilarating. Other men in her experience had always been reticent that way, expecting you to read their minds. Even johns, she said, had trouble telling you what they wanted.

For the first few months she still thought she was doing research for a book. She took notes every time a john left, writing down her impressions. She kept a diary. She detached herself from what she was doing and from who she was, using her journalistic objectivity as Donna used poetry and as Fran used marijuana.

When it dawned on her that whoring was an end in itself she went through an emotional crisis. She had never considered suicide before, but for a week she hovered on its brink. Then she worked it out. The fact that she was whoring didn't mean she had to label herself a wh.o.r.e. This was something she was doing for a while. The book, just an excuse to get into the life, might someday turn out to be something she really wanted to do. It didn't really matter. Her individual days were pleasant enough, and the only thing that was unsettling was when she pictured herself living this way forever. But that wouldn't happen. When the time was right, she would drift out of the life as effortlessly as she had drifted in.

'So that's how I keep my particular cool, Matt. I'm not a hooker. I'm just 'into hooking.' You know, there are worse ways to spend a couple of years.'

'I'm sure there are.'

'Plenty of time, plenty of creature comforts. I read a lot, I get to movies and museums and Chance likes to take me to concerts. You know the bit about the blind men and the elephant? One grabs the tail and thinks the elephant is like a snake, another touches the side of the elephant and thinks it's like a wall?'

'So?'

'I think Chance is the elephant and his girls are the blind men. We each see a different person.'

'And you all have some African sculpture on the premises.'

Hers was a statue about thirty inches high, a little man holding a bundle of sticks in one hand. His face and hands were rendered in blue and red beadwork, while all the rest of him was covered with small seash.e.l.ls.

'My household G.o.d,' she said. 'That's a Batum ancestor figure from Cameroun. Those are cowry sh.e.l.ls. Primitive societies all over the world use the cowry sh.e.l.l as a medium of exchange, it's the Swiss franc of the tribal world. You see how it's shaped?'

I went and had a look.

'Like the female genitalia,' she said. 'So men automatically use it to buy and sell. Can I get you some more of that cheese?'

'No thanks.'

'Another c.o.ke?'

'No.'

'Well,' she said, 'if there's anything you'd like, just let me know what it is.'

NINETEEN.

Just as I was leaving her building, a cab pulled up in front to discharge a pa.s.senger. I got in and gave the address of my hotel.

The windshield wiper on the driver's side didn't work. The driver was white; the picture on the posted license showed a black man. A sign cautioned, no smoking/driver allergic. The cab's interior reeked of marijuana.

'Can't see a f.u.c.king thing,' the driver said.

I sat back and enjoyed the ride.

I called Chance from the lobby, went up to my room. About fifteen minutes later he got back to me. 'Goyakod,' he said. 'I'll tell you, I like that word. Knock on many doors today?'

'A few.'

'And?'

'She had a boyfriend. He bought her presents and she showed them off.'

'To who? To my girls?'

'No, and that's what makes me sure it was something she wanted to keep secret. It was one of her neighbors who mentioned the gifts.'

'Neighbor turn out to have the kitten?'

'That's right.'

'Goyakod. d.a.m.n if it don't work. You start with a missing cat and you wind up with a clue. What presents?'

'A fur and some jewelry.'

'Fur,' he said. 'You mean that rabbit coat?'

'She said it was ranch mink.'

'Dyed rabbit,' he said. 'I bought her that coat, took her shopping and paid cash for it. Last winter, that was. The neighbor said it was mink, s.h.i.t, I'd like to sell the neighbor a couple of minks just like it. Give her a good price on 'em.'

'Kim said it was mink.'

'Said it to the neighbor?'

'Said it to me.' I closed my eyes, pictured her at my table in Armstrong's. 'Said she came to town in a denim jacket and now she was wearing ranch mink and she'd trade it for the denim jacket if she could have the years back.'

His laughter rang through the phone wire. 'Dyed rabbit,' he said with certainty. 'Worth more than the rag she got off the bus with, maybe, but no king's ransom. And no boyfriend bought it for her 'cause I bought it for her.'

'Well - '

'Unless I was the boyfriend she was talking about.'

'I suppose that's possible.'

'You said jewelry. All she had was costume, man. You see the jewelry in her jewelry box? Wasn't nothing valuable there.'

'I know.'

'Fake pearls, a school ring. The one nice thing she had was somethin' else I got her. Maybe you saw it. The bracelet?'

'Was it ivory, something like that?'

'Elephant tusk ivory, old ivory, and the fittings are gold. The hinge and the clasp. Not a lot of gold, but gold's gold, you know?'

'You bought it for her?'

'Got it for a hundred dollar bill. Cost you three hundred in a shop, maybe a little more, if you were to find one that nice.'