“I’m good,” Eve told him, then drew out the sketch, laid it on the counter. “Do you recognize this man?”
Zela stared at it. “Is this…” She shook her head. She lifted her water, drank deeply, set it down again. Then, picking up the sketch, she angled it toward the lights. “I’m sorry. He just doesn’t look familiar. We get so many men of a certain age through here. I think if I’d worked with him—in a class—I’d remember.”
“How about you?” Eve took the sketch, nudged it across the bar.
The bartender stopped mixing Peabody’s drink to frown over the sketch. “Is this the fucker—sorry, Zela.” She only shook her head, waved the obscenity away. “This the one who killed Sari?”
“He’s a guy we want to talk to.”
“I’m good with faces, part of the trade. I don’t remember him sitting at my bar.”
“You work days?”
“Yeah. We—me and my lady—had a kid six months ago. Sari switched me to days so I could be home with my family at night. She was good about things like that. Her memorial’s tomorrow.” He looked over at Zela. “It’s not right.”
“No.” Zela laid a hand over his for a moment. “It’s not right.”
There was grief in his eyes when he moved away to finish mixing the drink.
“We’re all taking it pretty hard,” Zela said quietly. “Trying to work through it, because what can you do? But it’s hard, like trying to swallow past something that’s stuck in your throat.”
“It says a lot about her,” Peabody offered, “that she mattered to so many people.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does. I talked to Sari’s sister yesterday,” Zela continued. “She asked if I’d pick the music. What Sari liked. It’s hard. Harder than anything I imagined.”
“I’m sure it is. What about her?” Eve glanced toward the redhead. “Did she work with Sari on any of the classes?”
“No. Actually, this is Loni’s first class. We’ve had to do some…well, some internal shuffling. Loni worked coat check and revolving hostessing. I just bumped her up to hostess/instructor.”
“I’d like to talk to her.”
“Sure, I’ll send her over.” Zela rose, smiled wanly. “Pity my feet. Mr. Buttons is as cute as, well, a button, but he’s a complete klutz.”
The dancers made the switch with Loni giving her klutzy partner a quick peck on the cheek before she dashed over to the bar on three-inch heels.
?
?Hi! I’m Loni.”
“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”
Peabody swallowed her slurp of cherry foam and tried to look more official.
“I talked to those other detectives? I have to say mmmm on both. I guess they’re not coming back?”
“Couldn’t say. Do you recognize this man?”
Loni looked at the sketch as the bartender set down beside her something pink and fizzy with a cherry garnish. “I don’t know. Hmmm. Not really. Sort of. I don’t know.”
“Which is it, Loni? Sort of or not really?”
“He kind of looks like this one guy, but that guy had dark hair, slicked back dark hair and a really thin mustache.”
“Short, tall, average? This one guy.”
“Ummm, let me think. On the short side. ’Cause Sari had an inch or two on him. Of course, she was wearing heels, so—”
“Hold on. You saw this man with Sari?”