Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(10)

Now he shook his head. “I guess not so friendly. She smiles a lot, but … He wasn’t real happy, if I had to say. He looked pissed—sorry, annoyed, a little mad. I guess maybe they argued some, but they kept it down.”

“Who left the booth first?”

“She did—I kept my eye on the booth in case they wanted another round. We were busy, but I kept an eye, and I saw her get up, head downstairs. Mostly she goes before she leaves—down to the bathroom, I mean. Then I was busy, and when I noticed again, he was gone. I checked my meter, and he’d paid the bill, so I bused the table.”

“About how long was that? When you noticed he was gone and bused the table?”

“I’m not real sure. Not that long. Five or ten minutes, I guess. Probably like five minutes, maybe. Another of my tables paid out, so I bused that one, and when I carried the tray over to the station, I sort of turned to say something to Bent—ah, Bentley behind the bar—and she … she bumped into me, threw me off, and I got my balance, but then I saw her, and the blood, and I dropped the tray. I dropped it, and then everything was whack.”

“Before that, did you notice anybody else go downstairs or come upstairs?”

“I don’t think I did. I try to keep an eye on my stations and none of my customers did, except Ms. Mars. I got—I got—I got her blood on me. See? When she bumped into me, I got blood on me.”

“Yeah, I see. What we’re going to do is get you a clean shirt, and we’re going to take that one in with us.”

“I didn’t kill her.” His face went sheet white, with high red flags on his cheeks. “I swear!”

“I don’t think that. I think you were doing your job. I’m going to get you a shirt, then you can go.”

“I liked her. She was always nice to me.”

“Just wait here.”

Once again, she went to Roarke. “That kid needs a clean shirt and somewhere to change. I need to take the one he’s wearing into evidence. The vic walked into him, got blood on him. He’s a little shaky.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“And one more? Would you get your manager to pull out anyone who paid their bill between eighteen-thirty and eighteen-forty-one?”

“All right.”

They cleared the bar until only cops and sweepers remained.

Gratefully, Eve took the coffee Roarke brought her in an oversized white cup and saucer. “Thanks.”

With it, she sat to organize her thoughts.

Roarke sat across from her, waited.

“You brought a ride?”

“I did.”

“Would you trust Peabody and McNab with it?”

“I would.”

“Peabody!”

“Sir!” Peabody gulped down the last of a fancy latte as she worked on her notes.

“I need you and McNab to take that box to Central, log it in. I want McNab to go over her ’link and any other electronics in there. I want a full report on same, asap. I want you to start running the names in her address book, or whatever she has. Send me a copy. You can take Roarke’s ride. Where is it?” she asked him.

“It’s in the alley, in the rear of the building.” He rattled off its codes.

“Park it in my slot. Roarke can have somebody pick it up. McNab, anything pertinent on the cams?”

“Nobody went in or out of the rear door.” He rubbed idly at his earlobe and its forest of hoops. “Numerous in and out the front during the pertinent time frame. I’m pretty sure I’ve got the guy—from the description given—she was sitting with. Only from the back, but it looks like he walked out at eighteen-forty. Five others, also only viewed from the back, left at eighteen-thirty-eight. Three males, two females, who appeared to be in a group. And two females left at eighteen-forty-one.”

“Shoot me a copy of that, and all the wit statements.”

“Are you coming into Central?” Peabody asked her.

“No, I’m going to go visit her drinking buddy, then I’ll work from home unless we break this. Morgue first stop in the morning, Peabody. Meet me there unless you hear otherwise.”

“There goes breakfast. ‘All the dish, served with a silver spoon.’”

“What?”

“Oh, her slogan—the vic’s. Larinda Mars’s Who’s Doing What show: ‘All the dish, served with a silver spoon.’ Not that I watch that sort of thing,” she added, a little too piously. “You just hear stuff.”

“Right. Get gone. Wait, how did you and McNab get here so fast? You were off nearly an hour before I called you in.”

“I stayed at Central doing some paperwork until McNab cleared. He had one hanging. We were just walking out when you tagged me.”

“Handy. Appreciate the assist, McNab.”

“Where the She-Body goes, I go. I’m driving.”

“Nuh-uh.” Peabody leaped up, chased him out the back.

“I need to secure and lock the doors,” Eve told Roarke. “You’ve got a nice place here—on the fancy edge for me, but nice, and quality staff. It’ll be nice again.”

He glanced down at the pool of blood, the river of it running from pool to stairway.

“I thought very, very little of Larinda Mars, and what I did think was with sneering derision at best. But someone spilled her blood on my floor. I trust you to find justice for her. And I’ll find it for my place, and the people who make their livings working in it.”