Judgment in Death (In Death 11)

“I was hostess at a small club downtown. Prior to that, I was a dancer. A performer,” she added with a thin smile. “I decided I wanted to move off the stage and into management where I could keep my clothes on. Roarke gave me the opportunity to do so, first at Trends as hostess, then as manager of Purgatory. Your husband appreciates ambition, Lieutenant.”

That was an avenue best not traveled on record. “Are part of your duties as manager of Purgatory the hiring of employees?”

“Yes. I hired Taj. He was looking for part-time work. His wife had just had a baby and was opting for professional mother status. He needed some extra money, was willing to work the late shift, and being happily married, wasn’t likely to hit on the talent.”

“Are those the only requirements for employment at Purgatory?”

“No, but they matter.” Rue lifted her fingers. She wore a single ring, a trio of stones twisted together like snakes and studded with stones the same color as her eyes. “He knew how to mix drinks, how to serve. He had a good eye for troublemakers. I didn’t know he was a cop. His application stated he worked in security, and it checked out.”

“What company?”

“Lenux. I contacted the office, spoke with his supervisor—well, or so I assumed—and was given his employment record. I had no reason to question it, and his record was solid. I hired him on a two-week probationary, he did the job, and we went from there.”

“Do you have the contact at Lenux in your files?”

“Yes.” Rue blew out a breath. “I’ve already tried to call. All I got this time around was that the code had been discontinued.”

“I’d like it anyway. Just to follow up.”

“Of course.” Rue reached into her bag, took out a day book. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell me he was a cop,” she said as she keyed in the code number on an e-memo for Eve. “Maybe he thought I wouldn’t hire him. But when you figure the owner’s a cop—”

“I don’t own the club.”

“No, well.” She shrugged and handed Eve the memo.

“He was in the club after closing. Is that standard?”

“No, but it isn’t unheard of. Routinely, the head bartender on duty and one of the security team close up together. Taj was serving as head last night, and according to my records, it was Nester Vine’s turn to close with him. I haven’t been able to reach Nester as yet.”

“Are you in the club every night?”

“Five nights a week. Sundays and Mondays off. I was there last night until two-thirty. The place was clearing out, and one of the girls was having a bad night. Boyfriend trouble. I took her home, held her hand for awhile, then went home myself.”

“What time was that?”

“When I went home?” Rue blinked a moment. “About three-thirty, quarter to four, I guess.”

“The name of the woman you were with until that time?”

“Mitzi.” Rue drew in a breath. “Mitzi Treacher. Lieutenant, the last time I saw Taj, he was alive and working the bar.”

“I’m just putting the facts on record, Ms. MacLean. Do you have a take on Detective Kohli’s state of mind the last time you saw him?”

“He seemed fine. We didn’t talk much last night. I stopped by the bar for some mineral water a couple of times. How’s it going, busy night, that kind of thing. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “He was a nice man. Quiet, steady. Always called his wife on his early break to see how she was doing.”

“He use the bar phone?”

“No. We discourage personal calls, barring emergencies, on the business line. He used his palm-link.”

“Did he use it last night?”

“I don’t know. He always did. I can’t say I noticed. No, wait.” This time she closed her eyes and seemed to drift. “He was eating a sandwich, back in the break room. I remember walking by. The door was open. He was making cooing noises.

Talking to the baby,” she said, opening her eyes again. “I remember that because it was so sweet and silly, hearing this big bruiser of a guy make baby noises into the ’link. Is it important?”

“Just trying to get a picture.” There hadn’t been a palm-link on or near the body, Eve recalled. “Did you notice anyone who came in last night or any other night when he was on? Somebody he knew, hung out at the bar with him?”

“No. We’ve got some regulars, of course. People who come in several times a week. Taj got so he’d know their usual drinks. Clients appreciate that.”