She tapped her badge.
“Yeah, but still.”
“I need one of those mics. You want to get out of here sometime before dawn you can get me one, set it up.”
“I can do that.”
He got her one that curled over her ear.
“You’re hot. The mic’s hot, I mean,” he said quickly.
Eve stepped onto the stage, and even with the mic, had to bellow.
“I’m Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. I need everybody to shut the hell up. Knock it off! The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we can get your information and let you leave.”
“Fucking police state!” somebody shouted.
“It’s a crime scene and, while we have adequate facilities at Cop Central, I doubt most of you want to spend the night in the tank. I doubt most of you want to submit to a personal search, then find yourselves charged with possession.”
“Narc bitch!”
“Homicide bitch,” Eve corrected. “One who’d be happy to take each and every one of you into Interview and question you regarding the death of Loxie Flash.”
“Loxie!” Someone screamed it, then began to sob loudly enough to drown out the complaints.
Eve shifted, subtly laid a hand on her weapon when the man she recognized as Glaze from his ID shot approached.
“I might be able to help calm them down. They know me.”
He looked tired, she thought. Sad. Resigned. But not threatening.
When she nodded, he got another mic, joined her on the stage.
Inexplicably to Eve, a wild cheer erupted through the crowd.
“Don’t do that.” He didn’t raise his voice, but held up a hand. “Don’t do that,” he repeated. “This isn’t the time for that. Most of you knew Lox. I’m asking you to show some respect. Just chill it off, okay? Chill it off, and let’s get through this.”
“I need everyone to sit down, keep it down,” Eve told them. “Officers are going to take your information and statements. You’ll be released in an orderly fashion.”
She pulled off the mic, turned to Glaze. “Adam Glazier, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to need you to stay. I need to speak with you, but we need to move the bulk of these people out.”
“Sure.”
She gave instructions to the uniforms, then moved to where Brad Smithers sat at the end of the bar.
“I saw her—the redhead. I saw her, but it was too late.”
“You did what you could. You did right. Loxie didn’t listen. Tell me how it went.”
“Okay.” He blew out a breath, sucked another in. “I was kind of keeping an eye out, and I passed the word, like you said to. We were busy. A lot of people came in because the city asked people to stay home. It’s like a red flag, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I took my break, went back to the kitchen, got some chow. Loxie must’ve co