And When She Was Good by Laura Lippman

allows them to show their wives that the gift was always meant for them, not a mistress or a girlfriend. They then pay her back in cash.
    And she records it, every cent. Tax evasion is the big risk for her, not sex. Tax evasion is what took down Al Capone. It is very hard to prove that someone has been paid for sex, the difference between an hourly rate and cab fare on the dresser, an appreciative gift. One clever call girl spells it out on her Web site: “I don’t take money, but you are free to give me gifts.” She even has a registry of sorts. The other night Audrey was watching one of those god-awful reality shows about so-called housewives, and one of the women proudly proclaimed that she blew her husband for diamonds. A straight-up confession on national television about trading sex for items of value. If that’s not prostitution, what is? But no one’s going to arrest that woman, nor should anyone. Although someone might want to give her a few pointers about what class really is.
    Heloise’s other two businesses, the legitimate ones, were set up when she realized she required certain services and that she might save money—and protect herself from exposure—by providing them herself. There is a travel agency, which handles booking trips—relatively rare, but Heloise likes pocketing the percentage she gets back. And she also has a very small car service, with only two leased sedans and two drivers. The drivers, who are allowed to work as independent contractors when not being used by Heloise, provide an extra layer of security for her girls. Also, if the girls are going to drink or even do drugs with their clients—and all do the former and some do the latter, despite the fact that both are prohibited under WFEN’s rules—it’s better for them not to drive. A drunk girl crashing her car while on Heloise’s payroll could end with her being sued.
    Besides, Heloise also cares about the girls’ personal safety. They all wear so-called slave bracelets, designed by her, with a GPS chip hidden inside. She hates the connotation of “slave,” but that’s the proper term for a bracelet that can be removed only with a key, which the girls never carry. Of course, the bracelets won’t save them if they meet someone sick enough to remove a girl’s left arm. That’s another one of the worries that leads to Heloise’s insomnia, the nights of staring at the ceiling trying to think of questions she might have to answer.
    The girls think the bracelets are funny, call them HoJacks. And when they leave her employ—and they all do, after they’ve graduated from college or solved their money problems—they can have the chip removed and keep the bangle as a souvenir, a badge.
    Heloise also gives the girls a safe word, which changes weekly: At the end of each date, the girl must text that word to Heloise and Audrey. The text also serves as a time stamp on the appointment, confirming that the client has not gone overtime. Customers are screened by a private investigator that Heloise keeps on retainer. The PI, a pragmatic young woman from the city, probably has an inkling that Heloise’s business is not exactly on the up-and-up, but there is nothing illegal about what she does for Heloise. She once told Heloise that the same results could be achieved for less money just by subscribing to one of the various Internet-based services, such as Intelius. But then those names, those histories, would be on Heloise’s hard drive somewhere, a de facto black book. Again Heloise is paying in part for the privilege of paper. She takes the reports and she shreds them once read. Her arrangement with the PI was set up by Heloise’s lawyer, so their transactions are confidential. No one can get to her clients—or to Heloise—through the PI.
    So yes, she has gone to great lengths to do everything she can to protect the men who pay her and the