The second is Oz Puriefoy’s. He’s the photographer who scouted her.“ Yulin looked up at me. “Who sent her to us in the first place.“
“Right. But they’re scratched out.“
“All that means is she got her own place.“
“Meaning she used to live with her uncle, then with Puriefoy?“
Yulin gave me a knowing grin. “Mau Tim was the sort of girl who could probably live anywhere she wanted.“
I said, “You know these numbers by heart?“
“Not anymore. Just the current ones. But you call them so many times, you remember which one was which, you know?“
I pointed back down to the card. “How about these two newer entries in the margin?“
“That one’s the number at her apartment.“ Yulin dropped his voice. “Where she was killed.“
“And the number in red?“
“That’s Larry Shinkawa.“
“The police said he was one of the men at the party.“
“I’m not surprised. Mau Tim and Larry have been... They were a thing for some months before she died.“
“He’s in advertising, right?“
“An exec at one of the smaller agencies.“
“Advertising agency?“
“Right. Berry/Ryder. Just down the street.“
“Do you know how they met?“
Yulin gave me a funny look. “I introduced them, as a matter of fact. At a party we threw at the Cactus Club.”
A trendy bar around the corner on Boylston Street . I went back to the card. Mau Tim’s height, weight, bust, waist, hips, dress size, shoe size, and so on. I picked up from the file a black-and-white pamphlet the size of a big birthday card. It had a head-and-shoulders photo of Mau Tim on the cover, an elaborate necklace around her throat and her first name emblazoned at the bottom.
Yulin said, “That’s a comp, for ‘composite card.’ “
“You sent this out as kind of a brochure for her?”
“Right.“ Yulin opened it up. Inside were two more photos of Mau Tim, one in evening wear, one in lingerie. On the back was a long shot of her in a wool dress and heels, boutique shopping bags in hand, apparently trying to flag a taxi. Alive, the most arresting woman I’d ever seen in two dimensions.
Yulin said, “Breathtaking, wasn’t she?“
I looked at him.
He blinked and said, “The next thing in the file is—“
“Just a second. You have a color version of that photo on the front?“
“Probably in the mini-book. You want to go through it now?“
“In a minute.“ I turned the comp card sideways to pick up the names of the photographers given credit in the margins. “None of these was taken by this Puriefoy.“
“Oh, no. No, she graduated from old Oz, if you get my drift.“
“I’m not sure I do.“
“Oz is a good photographer. With a good eye for talent, like hitting on Mau Tim, for example. But he’s not a great photographer. She got to be too good for him.“
“Can that happen with agencies like yours as well?“
Yulin clenched his jaw, then relaxed it quickly. “It can. But Mau Tim knew what we’d done for her. She wasn’t going anywhere we didn’t take her.“
I looked back into the file. There were some advertisement photos from newspapers. Only a few months old, from the dates handwritten on them, but already yellowing. There were also some studio shots of Mau Tim, with Oz Puriefoy’s name as photo credit.
“What are these?“
Yulin said, “Those are old shots that we rotated out of Mau Tim’s mini-book. See what I mean about Oz’s work?“
Mau Tim did look less sophisticated, less well turned in the face and hair. I couldn’t have attributed that to the photographer as opposed to the model, but then, I wasn’t in the business.
“I don’t see any paycheck stubs or tax records in here.“
“That’s all on the computer now.“
“What did Mau Tim pull down in a year?“
“I could look it up for you, but basically she went from a thousand a day to two within a few months. Lately we were getting twenty-five hundred guaranteed.“
“A day.“
“Right.“
“From which your cut
“Right. But they’re scratched out.“
“All that means is she got her own place.“
“Meaning she used to live with her uncle, then with Puriefoy?“
Yulin gave me a knowing grin. “Mau Tim was the sort of girl who could probably live anywhere she wanted.“
I said, “You know these numbers by heart?“
“Not anymore. Just the current ones. But you call them so many times, you remember which one was which, you know?“
I pointed back down to the card. “How about these two newer entries in the margin?“
“That one’s the number at her apartment.“ Yulin dropped his voice. “Where she was killed.“
“And the number in red?“
“That’s Larry Shinkawa.“
“The police said he was one of the men at the party.“
“I’m not surprised. Mau Tim and Larry have been... They were a thing for some months before she died.“
“He’s in advertising, right?“
“An exec at one of the smaller agencies.“
“Advertising agency?“
“Right. Berry/Ryder. Just down the street.“
“Do you know how they met?“
Yulin gave me a funny look. “I introduced them, as a matter of fact. At a party we threw at the Cactus Club.”
A trendy bar around the corner on Boylston Street . I went back to the card. Mau Tim’s height, weight, bust, waist, hips, dress size, shoe size, and so on. I picked up from the file a black-and-white pamphlet the size of a big birthday card. It had a head-and-shoulders photo of Mau Tim on the cover, an elaborate necklace around her throat and her first name emblazoned at the bottom.
Yulin said, “That’s a comp, for ‘composite card.’ “
“You sent this out as kind of a brochure for her?”
“Right.“ Yulin opened it up. Inside were two more photos of Mau Tim, one in evening wear, one in lingerie. On the back was a long shot of her in a wool dress and heels, boutique shopping bags in hand, apparently trying to flag a taxi. Alive, the most arresting woman I’d ever seen in two dimensions.
Yulin said, “Breathtaking, wasn’t she?“
I looked at him.
He blinked and said, “The next thing in the file is—“
“Just a second. You have a color version of that photo on the front?“
“Probably in the mini-book. You want to go through it now?“
“In a minute.“ I turned the comp card sideways to pick up the names of the photographers given credit in the margins. “None of these was taken by this Puriefoy.“
“Oh, no. No, she graduated from old Oz, if you get my drift.“
“I’m not sure I do.“
“Oz is a good photographer. With a good eye for talent, like hitting on Mau Tim, for example. But he’s not a great photographer. She got to be too good for him.“
“Can that happen with agencies like yours as well?“
Yulin clenched his jaw, then relaxed it quickly. “It can. But Mau Tim knew what we’d done for her. She wasn’t going anywhere we didn’t take her.“
I looked back into the file. There were some advertisement photos from newspapers. Only a few months old, from the dates handwritten on them, but already yellowing. There were also some studio shots of Mau Tim, with Oz Puriefoy’s name as photo credit.
“What are these?“
Yulin said, “Those are old shots that we rotated out of Mau Tim’s mini-book. See what I mean about Oz’s work?“
Mau Tim did look less sophisticated, less well turned in the face and hair. I couldn’t have attributed that to the photographer as opposed to the model, but then, I wasn’t in the business.
“I don’t see any paycheck stubs or tax records in here.“
“That’s all on the computer now.“
“What did Mau Tim pull down in a year?“
“I could look it up for you, but basically she went from a thousand a day to two within a few months. Lately we were getting twenty-five hundred guaranteed.“
“A day.“
“Right.“
“From which your cut
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