“Did he tell you he’s an Appenzell mountain dog? And we think he might have just run off, looking for something interesting to do.”

She laughed. “Mountain dogs aren’t best kept in the city, or even the suburbs.”

“No. The thing is, given he’s pretty valuable, I’d think he had an owner somewhere looking for him, so I put ads in the papers.”

She nodded, raised her face a bit, and looked round at the dog. “He’s quite beautiful, isn’t he? Well, you did the right thing. This dog”-which was still across her shoulder-“will have no trouble at all in getting adopted. And also, he likes you.” She put another word down on her form.

“Me? Likes me? That’s not my shoulder he’s sprawled on. If it’s the dog’s happiness that concerns you, then you’ll have to come along, too.”

She blushed. Then she cocked her head and looked at Jury. “I know you can’t take on the dog permanently, but we’ve a foster program here where a person gives the animal-the dog or cat-shelter for a short time while we find a home for it.”

“The trouble is, I have a very irregular schedule and I’m out most of the time-”

She looked so pained, and so in extremis, he’d have felt like a heel not to fall in with this plan. “Yes, okay, I could do that.”

Beaming as if the sun had risen, she said, “That’s really nice of you, sir. I’ll just make arrangements.”

She was about to go off when Jury stopped her. “I can’t take him with me right this minute. I’m leaving town. It might be a couple of days until I can get back.”

The sun sank. “Oh.”

Again, he felt like a heel. But he hadn’t been lying. Somehow he felt this girl was always being lied to. He could imagine someone bringing in a great strapping animal who looked as though his last meal had been taken five minutes ago, claiming he’d “just found him in the streets” and dumping him.

Yes, she must have been through this time and time again. I’ll be back, but never coming back. He took out his ID. “The thing is, I’m a policeman and I have a case that takes me out of London.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at the ID.

“That’s all right, then, Mr.-Inspector…”

“Jury. Superintendent Jury. I really will come back.”

“Well, we’d be pleased to keep him until you do.” She had her arms around the dog now, lifting him off the counter. “He needs a name. I guess you haven’t named him yet. What can we call him?”

“I don’t know. What’s your name?”

She giggled. “Joely. But I’m a girl.”

“I can see that. What a gorgeous name. Well, how about Joey?”

Joely looked into the dog’s eyes, as if measuring him for this name. “Joey.” She nodded in approval. “He’s got his rabies tag now, but he needs a collar.”

“With his name on it, yes.”

She looked at Jury for a long moment, frowning and thinking. Then her face cleared and she said, “I know! Wait here.” She carried the dog off with her. In a moment she was back with a cigar box, which she plopped on the counter, together with the dog. “When we find dogs, sometimes they have collars that we take off and save-here!” She turned an old leather collar with a small metal plate on it so that Jury could see it.

“Joe, it says. Now, wait.” Here she took a small, sharp tool and scraped away on the end of the name, adding a “y.” “I use this for different things on metal. Well, it doesn’t look very professional, but-” She held it up for Jury (and Joey) to see.

Jury smiled. It was indeed not very professional, but the “y” was certainly workmanlike. “That’s brilliant.” The dog didn’t resist at all as Jury put the collar round his neck.

They both admired her handiwork. She asked, “Did Dr. Kavitz tell you about mountain dogs?”

“A little. He said this particular kind-Appenzell?-is rare.”

“It is in London, that’s for sure. Here-” She pushed the filled-in form toward him. “Would you just sign here? And date it?” As Jury did this, she said: “They’re herding dogs. You know, cattle, sheep, goats, and so forth. They’re very active. I can see if you live in a flat, you’d probably be better off with another kind of dog.”

She appeared to have forgotten what had landed him this one. He hadn’t been looking for a dog at all. When he finished, she took back the form, impulsively snatched up one of the white caps, handed it to him, and said, laughing, “I don’t suppose you know anyone with a lot of land and some sheep or goats, do you?”

Jury put on the cap, thought for a moment, and smiled. “Funny you should ask that.”

His mobile was trilling as he was letting himself into his flat.

“Jury.”

“It’s me, guv. We did the door-to-door, found three tenants home, but no one who knows who she is. I wonder if maybe this grocer made a mistake.”

“No. He was quite deliberate about her. She bought not just cigarettes but bread and milk and so forth. Not purchases you’d make if you were going to another part of the city. I could be wrong in assuming she must live in Bidwell Street, though. She could live several streets away.” He thought for a moment. “Or quite possibly she visits a friend who lives there.”

“That’s a distinct possibility. Or perhaps she takes care of someone. Anyway, I’ll keep checking. ’Bye.”

25

“You were right, guv; she worked as an escort.”

Jury had just walked into his office and was taking off his coat. “Tell me it’s the same agency.”

“No. Chelsea. King’s Road Companions, it’s called. Kind of sedate name for an escort place, isn’t it? Her name’s Kate Banks, and according to the manager, ‘Kate’s the best we had on offer.’ ”

Like a plate of cockles, thought Jury. “More or less what Blanche Vann said about Stacy Storm.”

Wiggins nodded. “This Kate was the most popular, always busy, could get five, six hundred an hour if she wanted. In one week, Kate brought in five thousand quid.”

“Do I hear a ‘poor Kate’ in there anywhere from this person? Did she spare a thought for Kate herself?” Jury creaked back in his chair and watched Wiggins stirring his tea. For once he was using a spoon, not a twig or a stick.

“No, Una was thinking more along the lines of‘poor Una.’ That’s the owner, Una Upshur.”

“A name nobody was born with.” He thought of Joey. Wiggins snorted.

“Did you squeeze anything else out of her besides Kate’s earning power?”

“Not an awful lot. Kate’s from Slough. There’s reason enough to go on the game.” Wiggins laughed into his tea.

“Why have people got it in for Slough? I like Slough. It’s a good place.”

Wiggins rolled his eyes. “Kate’s been in London since she was in her early twenties, according to Una. Well-educated, she was. Started at King’s Road a few years later.” He thumbed up pages in his notebook, looked at it. “Una says she’s been with her for about three years. But it’s not her regular job; she’s a steno typist days.”

“Who was last night’s client?”

“According to Una, there was no one on the books for Kate.”

“That must have been unusual, given she was the agency’s star. So she either wasn’t with a client or was doing a bit on the side. Given the clothes and given the money, I’d certainly subscribe to the second idea. Like Stacy. And I’ll bet Ms. Upshur wasn’t giving out any names, either.”

Wiggins stirred his tea. “‘Clients have my assurance of absolute confidentiality.’”

“Until such future time as Una might want to try a spot of blackmail. Get a warrant, Wiggins.”

“That might not be all that easy; there’s not much probable cause.”

“The hell there’s not. She was with one of the agency’s clients. Even if Kate was seeing this guy on the sly, he would still have been on the King’s Road whatever books.”

“Companions. Incidentally, Una made it clear that her setup wasn’t about sex.”

Jury made a blubbery noise of amused disbelief. “Then what, may I venture to ask, is it about?”