Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(28)

The lunch offerings ran to sandwiches and salads, all named after dead rockers. Today’s special was peanut butter and banana on white, with a side of vidalia onions and jalapenos. The Elvis and Joplin combo.

Eve settled with Feeney at the first bar, ordered black coffee, and sized up the bartender. She was human rather than the usual droid. In fact, Eve hadn’t noticed any droids employed in the club.

“You ever work the night shift?” Eve asked her.

“Nope. I’m a day worker.” The bartender set Eve’s coffee on the bar. She was the perky kind, one who looked more like the front woman for a health food chain than a drink swiller at a club.

“Who’s on the ten to three who notices people, remembers them?”

“Nobody around here notices people, if they can help it.”

Eve took out her badge, laid it on the bar. “Would this clear somebody’s memory?”

“Couldn’t say.” Unconcerned, she shrugged. “Look, this is a clean joint. I’ve got a kid at home, which is why I work days and why I was fussy about where I took a job. I checked this place out through and through before I hooked up. Dennis, he runs a friendly club, which is why you’ve got servers with pulses instead of chips. It might get a little wild, but he keeps the lid on.”

“Who is Dennis, and where do I find him?”

“His office is up the twisty stairs to your right, behind the first bar. He owns the place.”

“Hey, Dallas. We could take a minute for some eats,” Feeney complained as he walked behind her. “The Mick Jagger sounded worth a try.”

“Get him to go.”

The bar wasn’t open on this level, but obviously Dennis had been alerted. A mirrored panel slid aside, and he stood there, a slight, aesthetic-faced man with a pointed red beard and a monk’s circle of raven black hair.

“Officers, welcome to ZigZag.” His voice was whisper quiet. “Is there a problem?”

“We’d like your help and cooperation, Mr…. ?”

“Dennis, just Dennis. Too many names are unwieldy.” He ushered them inside. The carnival atmosphere ended at the threshold. The office was spartan, streamlined, and quiet as a church. “My sanctuary,” he said, well aware of the contrast. “One can’t enjoy nor can one appreciate the pleasures of noise and crowds and tangling humanity unless one experiences its opposite. Please sit.”

Eve took a chance on a stern-looking, straight-backed chair while Feeney eased himself into its mate. “We’re trying to verify the movements of one of your customers last night.”

“For?”

“Official reasons.”

“I see.” Dennis sat behind a slab of high-gloss plastic that served as his desk. “And the time?”

“After eleven, before one.”

“Open screen.” At his order, a section of the wall slid open to reveal a viewer. “Replay security scan five, begin eleven P. M.”

The screen, and the room, erupted with sound and color and movement. For an instant it dazzled the eye, then Eve focused. It was an overview of the club in full swing. A rather lordly view, she mused, as if the watcher soared quietly over the heads of the celebrants.

It suited Dennis down to the ground.

He smiled, judging her reaction. “Delete audio.” Abruptly, silence descended. Now the movement seemed unworldly. Dancers gyrated on the circling floors, lights flashed over their faces, catching expressions, intense, joyful, feral. A couple at a corner table snarled at each other, body action clearly demonstrating an argument in progress. At another, a mating ritual with soulful looks and intimate touches.

Then she spotted Mavis. Alone.

“Can you enhance?” Eve rose, jabbed a finger to the center left of the screen.

“Of course.”

Frowning, Eve watched Mavis brought closer, clearer. It was, according to the time display, twenty-three forty-five. There was a bruise already darkening under Mavis’s eye. And when she turned her head to brush off an advance, the signs of raw scratches on her neck. But not her face, Eve noted with a sinking heart. The bright blue drape she wore was torn a bit at the shoulder, but it was still attached.

She watched Mavis flick off a couple of other men, then a woman. She downed her drink, set the glass down beside a matching pair of empty ones on her table. She listed a bit as she rose, balanced herself, then with the exaggerated dignity of the greatly impaired, Mavis elbowed her way through the crowd.

The time was twenty-four eighteen.

“Is that what you were looking for?”

“More or less.”

“Disengage video.” Dennis smiled. “The woman in question comes in the club from time to time. She is usually more sociable, enjoys dancing. Occasionally she will sing. I find her a different sort of talent, and certainly a crowd pleaser. Do you need her name?”

“I know who she is.”

“Well then.” He rose. “I hope Miss Freestone isn’t in any trouble. She looked unhappy.”

“I can get a warrant for a copy of that disc, or you can give me one.”

Dennis lifted a bright red eyebrow. “I’ll be happy to give you one. Computer, copy disc and label. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, not at this time.” Eve accepted the disc and slipped it into her bag. “Thanks for your cooperation.”