“They ran it together?” Greg asks.
“When I picture pimps, I picture fur coats, wide lapels, and no fixed address,” I say.
“Yeah, because all criminals are like in the movies,” Cindy snaps. Maybe she’s taking it more seriously than I thought. “Kalvis was an emotion worker. Ugh. That’s just so gross. Anyway—”
“You said he was married, right?” I say, interrupting her. “How did he go missing without his wife knowing anything about it?”
She flips over a couple of pages. “Actually, it’s really creepy. He disappeared from bed. Like, right next to her. So either that’s true or Mrs. Kalvis was in on the hit.”
I’m warming to the idea of a murderess. I imagine her posing as one of the call girls—maybe in distress—and arranging an emergency meeting with Kalvis. He slips out of bed without waking
