He pointed, cheerfully ratting out his pal.
“It sounds like he’s paid his debt to society.”
Jesus—jeez it—where was the kid’s mother?
“Talk to him,” Eve suggested, desperately sacrificing Roarke.
“Okay. Are you the police, too?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You talk different,” Chip commented. “Are you from French? The lady at the market is, and she don’t talk like us either. I know a word.”
“What word?”
“Bunjore. It means hello.”
“I know a word.”
&n
bsp; Chip’s grin widened. “What word?”
“Dia dhuit. It’s hello where I was born.”
“Deea-gwit,” Chip repeated, mangling it a bit.
“Well done.”
“Chip, stop pestering the police and go play.”
Becky Robbins had taken time to tame back her hair. She hurried now, her flip-flops flapping as she reached out to tuck an arm around her son’s shoulders. After a quick hug, she made a shooing motion.
“Okay. Bye!” He raced off, and was immediately absorbed into the running and shouting.
“What’s going on?” Becky demanded. “A couple of the neighbors said the FBI was here before when we were out. Now the police.”
“Do you know a woman calling herself Sarajo Whitehead?”
“Yeah, the neighbors said the FBI asked about her. She used to live here. Second floor. She moved out a while back. Eight, ten months, maybe. Why? She did something, didn’t she?” Becky continued before Eve could speak. “The FBI people didn’t really say, but Earleen—my neighbor—she could tell. And now you’re here, too. I never liked that woman—Sarajo, I mean, not Earleen.”
Chip came by his talkative nature honestly, Eve decided. “Why is that?”
“She could barely be bothered to say a friendly hello. I know she worked nights, mostly, but I don’t appreciate anybody yelling at my kid—all the kids.”
Becky put her hands on her hips as she looked over the racing, shouting kids with the mother’s version of the beady eye.
“They got a right to play out here in good weather, and in broad daylight for heaven’s sake. Told her that myself, after she yelled and used swears at those kids one too many times. Told her she ought to get herself some earplugs or whatever.”
Becky looked back at Eve. “What did she do?”
“We’ll know more about that when we locate her. Did she have any visitors?”
“The only person I ever saw go in or out of there except her was another woman. Young, pretty.”
“This woman?” Eve showed her Melinda’s photo.
“Yeah, that’s the one. She’s not in trouble with the police, is she? She seemed so nice.”