55 #HungForASheep

Haye took the I-83 highway north out of the city heading to Lutherville, one of the most upmarket districts in the county. Stephanie Cooper’s house was situated by Loch Raven reservoir, with views across the water to Towson Golf & Country Club. Haye pulled up his sedan outside the colonial-style home and whistled softly to himself. ‘You wouldn’t get much change out of a million dollars for that.’

But while the building and area reeked of money, its inhabitant was distinctly lower class. Before Haye even rang the doorbell, Stephanie Cooper flung open her door. ‘If you’ve come to ask about Coops, I have nuthin’ to say except he’s a no-good piece of shit.’

‘I know that,’ Haye replied.

Stephanie cracked something that could pass as a smile. But it was only fleeting. ‘What the fuck are you here for, then?’

Curiously, the soon-to-be divorced Stephanie Cooper was the same squat shape and height as her estranged husband. They even had similar aggressive personalities, more like siblings than spouses. Maybe they are, Haye thought to himself.

‘I need some help. May I come in?’ he asked politely.

Stephanie’s dark beady eyes looked Haye up and down. He was good-looking for his age, even if he showed signs of wear and tear. ‘You’ve got ten minutes before my hair appointment,’ she said, showing him her back as she stomped into the depths of her home.

Haye looked at her boyish short haircut disappearing down the hall and thought Stephanie Cooper’s hairdresser got money for nothing.

She stopped in the kitchen and gruffly asked, ‘Coffee?’

‘Sure, white, two sugars,’ Haye said, scanning around. He could understand why she was so twitchy. There was no way Coops earned a plush pad like this on a cop’s salary, even with a golden handshake from the homicide department. And Stephanie certainly didn’t look like she came from money.

‘So what’s the cheating fuck done now?’ Stephanie asked, peering at him with suspicious eyes over the top of her coffee mug.

‘I can’t be sure, but he won’t give us the name of a hooker we think he’s running from the Baltimore City Hotel. She might be able to help us with a case,’ Haye said, keeping as much detail to himself as possible.

Stephanie started to laugh. Like everything about her, it wasn’t nice. More mocking than jocular. ‘This to do with that British prick?’ she asked, already knowing the answer.

‘Yeah, Bryce Horrigan. But please keep that to yourself,’ Haye pleaded.

‘Know why Coops left? I caught him cheating with one of the girls. Now, this goes no further, all right pretty boy? Because I’ll deny everything, then claim you sexually assaulted me in my own home, gettit?’ Stephanie warned and Haye knew she wasn’t kidding. ‘We had a no screwing rule when we worked the girls. Or blowies. No handjobs, either, okay? He was just to provide the security, make sure we weren’t fucked around by vice squad and I looked after the rest.’

Suddenly it all made perfect sense to Haye. The expensive house. The lifestyle and Stephanie Cooper – a stereotypical don’t-fuck-with-me brothel madam if ever there was one.

‘But he broke the rule, didn’t he? What’s her name?’ Haye said, going for the kill.

‘A stuck-up little bitch who called herself Lindy Delwar. College student. At least she was until she discovered she could earn more as Coops’ bitch than through her studies,’ Stephanie said, pouring them both a refill.

Haye took out his iPhone to find the freeze-frame of the hooker counting her money in the hotel elevator. He showed it to Stephanie, who laughed again. ‘I told her not to count out her bucks like that. It’s crass.’

Haye thought that was rich coming from Stephanie Cooper. ‘Where can I find this Lindy Delwar?’

‘You can start by using her real name, Linda Delaney. They’re shacked up together. They deserve each other, if you ask me. Coops has no other girls working for him. They all stayed with me. Loyalty means a lot to me. Here, you can have the little bitch’s number if you don’t want to speak to her handler. Rumour has it she likes to moonlight without Coops knowing. Drives him crazy. So she’ll meet you if you pretend to be some rich punter,’ Stephanie said, trawling through her iPhone contacts.

Haye took a note of Lindy Delwar’s number, finished his coffee then politely rinsed it in the sink.

‘So, you wanna go upstairs and fuck?’ Stephanie asked bluntly.

‘What?’ Haye spluttered, before regaining his composure. ‘I thought my ten minutes was up?’

‘You can have another ten,’ she said, making her way to the staircase.

‘What about your hair appointment?’

‘Let’s be honest, this crop job pretty much looks after its fucking self.’

‘And accusing me of sexual assault?’ Haye asked, following her like a puppy.

‘Only if you don’t do me right,’ she said, leading him into her bedroom by the hand.