Chapter Fifty-five

Dick Pettler had an office over a sandwich shop on Broad Street, across the street from a Japanese restaurant. The sign on his office door read R. J. PETTLER, INQUIRIES. Jesse went in.

Pettler was tall and bony with rimless glasses.

"Mark Hillenbrand called me," Pettler said. "Told me you'd be coming by."

"You did the snoop work on Norman Shaw's divorce from Felicia Feinman," Jesse said.

Pettler smiled, his teeth gleaming.

"I like to call it discreet inquiry," he said.

"But you did it?"

"Sure."

"You got affidavits from several hookers," Jesse said.

"I could have gotten them from a hundred," Pettler said.

"How old were they?"

Pettler rocked back in his swivel chair and looked thoughtfully at Jesse.

"Pretty good question," he said.

Jesse nodded.

"They were babies," Pettler said. "I can't guarantee how old, but they all looked about thirteen."

"He have an MO?" Jesse said.

"Sure. He'd meet them in a motel, sometimes four, five nights a week. Couple times he had more than one in the same night."

"Same motel?"

"Usually."

"Boundary Suites," Jesse said.

"Hey," Pettler said, "pretty good. Yeah. Boundary Suites right there in your neighborhood."

"He take them there?"

Pettler shook his head.

"Nope. When he got there, with me behind him, he'd go straight to the motel room. You know Boundary Suites?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you know it's a lovers' hideaway," Pettler said. "Drive up to the door of the room. Go right in. No lobby to go through. Nobody to see you."

"You know how he set it up?" Jesse said.

"Nope. I assume by phone."

"You know who supplied them?"

"Nope. Not my job."

"The girls always very young?" Jesse said.

"Everyone I saw."

"If I needed you in court, could you prove what you're saying?"

"Sure. I got photos. You want to see?"

Pettler got up and went to the gray metal file cabinet to the left of his window. He took out a folder and brought it back and put it on the front of his desk where Jesse could look through it. There were pictures of a clearly recognizable Norman Shaw and different very young women, in sexually explicit action in a motel room. Shaw looked better than he did now. His belly seemed flat and he had more hair.

"Through the window?" Jesse said.

"Yeah. There's a little hill behind the room. I'd go around there with a telephoto. He never shut the lights off."

"Or pulled the curtains."

"Maybe he liked people to watch," Pettler said.

"Maybe you been doing this too long," Jesse said.

"Maybe I'm right," Pettler said.

"You never saw him pick up these kids?"

"Nope. Never saw him pick up anybody," Pettler said. "Just showed up at the motel. Stayed a couple of hours and went home. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am."

"You never saw anybody deliver them?"

"Nope. Shaw was my job. I was behind him. The broads were already there when he arrived."

"And you don't know anything about his habits after the divorce?"

"Nope. But I'll bet he hasn't changed," Pettler said. "I don't know shit about psychology. But I'd say this is a guy doing something he needs to do, you know? Has to do."

"I'd like to copy these pictures," Jesse said. "I'll see that you get them back."

"Keep 'em," Pettler said. "I still got the negatives."

Jesse stood and put out his hand.

"Thanks," he said.

Pettler shook hands without getting up.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you want to know all this?" he said.

"That's right," Jesse said. "I'm not."

"Not my job, anyway," Pettler said.

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