“No, we’re good, but thanks.”
“Laroo! Take the bar.” Vik and his massive gut wobbled their way to a back room.
“How white is an Irishman’s ass?” Eve wondered aloud.
“You should know, darling.”
That got a snicker out of Annalyn. “I dated a guy named Colin Magee way back in the day. He was mostly Irish. His ass was pretty white.”
“You dated everybody back in the day,” Bree said, but her eyes stayed fixed on the door to the back room, as if she could will Vik to return with what they needed.
“I’ve always preferred the sampler menu. Take a few bites, then try something else. So how’s juggling cop and marriage?” she asked Eve.
“You’re never hungry. Tell me, is this Vik’s memory as good as he makes it sound?”
“Every bit,” Annalyn confirmed. “He rattled off the name of every regular when we first came in, and his opinion on same. Detailed the work schedules, gave us former employees in case one of them had come back and done it out of spite.”
He waddled through the door again with a printout. “Used the plastic. Chester H. Gibbons.”
He passed the printout to Bree.
“Thanks, Mr. Vik. This is a big help.”
“She did what you say, I hope you get her good. After she didn’t come back, I tried to get her on her ’link, even went over to her place. Worried about her—and felt guilty, too. She’d cleared out, and I figured she was too upset to stay.” He shook his head, eyed Roarke. “You don’t look like a cop.”
“I’m not, and thank you for noticing.”
“Irish, are you? Never knew a Mick—no offense—didn’t know how to drink. You come back any time, we’ll fix you up.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ve got a couple questions,” Eve began.
“Now you look like a cop.”
“I am, thanks for noticing.”
Vik’s smiled flickered in appreciation. “But you ain’t from around here.”
“New York. You’ve got an impressive memory, Mr. Vik. When did Sarajo start working for you?”
“Would’ve been middle of August last year. She came in—Saturday night, it was, looking for work. Business was good, so I said she could work then and there. If she did good, I’d give her some hours. You could tell she’d worked bars before. She knew how to get the drinks out, when to talk, when to shut up. Good-looking. Even drunks like having a good-looking woman serve them drinks.”
“You didn’t ask her any questions?”
“Not then, but sure, before I hired her on official. She said her man left her in Laredo, and she wanted a fresh start. She did the job. Wasn’t especially friendly, but she did the job.”
“An observant sort such as yourself would’ve known she was a user.”
He lifted his shoulders; his gut flowed like the tide. “Maybe I figured she gave herself a boost here and there. I didn’t see it, and it didn’t screw with her work. So not my business.”
“How often did she lock up?”
“Once, maybe twice a wee
k. After she’d worked here awhile, she asked if she could work that shift a couple times a week, or more if I wanted. Two of the other waitresses, they got kids. She didn’t. It worked out. What the hell you want her for? This isn’t for crying rape or using some boosters.”
“No, but they both play. She won’t come back here, Mr. Vik, but if you happen to see her anywhere in your travels, don’t approach her. Contact Detective Jones or Detective Walker. We could use witnesses like you in New York.”