Devoted in Death (In Death 41)

“In my personal experience, you bet. She could be bitchy, always talked about going east. Claimed she was saving up, marking time until she could head to New York City, shake the prairie dust off her boots and live the big-city life.”

“A girl with a dream. And James?”

“Bartender’s vague there, but I found another waitress – who I suspect also offers sexual favors – who remembers him.”

“Hey there, pretty little thing!”

Eve heard the drunken male voice, watched Carmichael’s gaze slide over.

“Why don’t you and me take a spin on the dance floor?”

“Why don’t you go on out, start spinning, and I’ll catch up when I’m done here?”

“Alrighty.”

“A woman could rope and ride a half dozen men, should she be so inclined, in a single visit to this establishment. Just saying,” Carmichael added.

“How many do you have spinning?”

“Lost count.” Carmichael fluttered her lashes. “But I suspect Ella-Loo made more dispensing sexual favors than she did dispensing brews. Her coworker remembers Ella-Loo homed right in on Darryl Roy James like he was the answer to a prayer. And, in fact, warned her coworker off, got physical about it. Shoved her into a bathroom stall and threatened to slice her tits off – that’s a quote – if she went near James.

“Later, said coworker walked out the back for a break – that possibly included imbibing an illegal substance – and saw the two of them banging like hammers against the recycler.”

“So, straight to sex.”

“Do not pass the bjs. Neither of them ever came back. Ella-Loo had two nights’ pay coming, but they figure she made that up by stealing a case of brew from the storeroom. And the till was a few hundred short that night, according to Seriously Cute. We’re going to go by, dig up her former landlord, but the word here is, she left most everything, and owed two weeks’ rent.”

Eve pulled out in traffic as she listened. “Sex and stealing, but they couldn’t keep it at that. What the hell is that noise?”

“They’ve got a band coming in later, we’re told, but they’re doing Country Karaoke this afternoon – two to four. The fun never ends.”

“It’s sixteen-thirty. Why don’t they stop?”

“It’s fifteen-thirty here, Lieutenant.”

“How can it – never mind. Check the former residence, then head to the prison. We’ve had some hits here. I’ll send you a report. Good work.”

Eve cruised the streets, noted the pizzeria, the Chinese restaurant. Since double-parking would draw attention, she paid the freight for a lot, covered the same ground on foot, found the hardware, the 24/7, the boutique, the pawnshop, flashed the photos at other shop owners, at glide-cart operators.

They’re here, she thought, scanning faces, vehicles, buildings. She only needed one of them to step outside their nest. Go out for food, a six-pack of beer.

But she saw nothing of them, and walked back to her car.

She drove home thinking Campbell and Mulligan might be trapped in one of the buildings she’d passed, and that thought clawed at her through the miserable traffic and the icy sleet that began to fall.

She wanted home and the quiet, craved it like water after a drought. Just an hour of quiet where no one talked to her, fed her data, looked to her for the answers.

She dragged herself into the warmth.

“Early and alone?” Summerset gave her a long, cool look out of dark eyes.

She found she didn’t have the energy to take a swipe at him.

“They’ll be piling in later.”

The cat padded over to bump against her leg, but she just turned to the stairs, started up without taking off her coat.

Summerset went directly to the house intercom. “I believe the lieutenant has hit a wall. She’s on her way up.”