“People come, people go,” she said in a singsong voice. “Sometimes you can hear the music from down the street. But not that night. Rain’s too loud. People running to get out of it. Like they’d melt or something.”
“You saw someone running in the rain.”
The colorless eyes sharpened. “Maybe. What’s it worth?”
Eve dug into her pocket. She had enough loose credit tokens for a quick, small score. The junkie’s eyes rolled and her hand jerked out.
“What did you see?” Eve said slowly, snatching the credits out of reach.
“A guy pissing in the alley over there.” She shrugged, her eyes focused on the credits. “Maybe jerking off. Hard to tell.”
“Did he have anything with him? Was he carrying anything?”
“Just his dick.” She laughed uproariously at that and nearly tumbled. Her eyes were beginning to water heavily. “He just walked away in the rain. Hardly anybody out that night. Guy got in a car.”
“Same guy?”
“Nah, another guy, had it parked over there.” She gestured vaguely. “Not from ’round here.”
“Why?”
“Car had a shine to it. Nobody got a car with a shine to it ’round here. If they got a car. Now Crack, he’s got one, and that pissant Reeve down the hall from me. But they don’t shine.”
“Tell me about the guy who got in the car.”
“Got in the car, drove away.”
“What time was it?”
“Hey, I look like a clock. Ticktock.” She snorted another laugh. “It was nighttime. Nighttime’s the best. My eyes hurt in daytime,” she whined. “Lost my sunshields.”
Eve dragged a pair of eye protectors out of her pocket. She never remembered to wear the damn things, anyway. She shoved them at the albino, who hooked them on.
“Cheap. Cop issue. Shit.”
“What was he wearing? The guy who got in the car.”
“Hell, I don’t know.” The junkie toyed with the sunglasses. Her eyes didn’t burn quite so much behind the treated lenses. “A coat maybe. Dark coat, flapped around. Yeah, it flapped around when he was closing the umbrella.”
Eve felt a jolt, like a punch in the stomach. “He had an umbrella?”
“Hey, it was raining. Some people don’t like getting wet. Pretty,” she said, dreaming again. “Bright.”
“What color was it?”
“Bright,” she repeated. “You going to give me those credits?”
“Yeah, you’re going to get them.” But Eve took her arm, led her to the broken steps of the building, and sat her down. “But let’s talk about this a little more first.”
“The uniforms missed her.” Eve paced her office while Feeney lolled in her chair. “She went into detox the day after the first murder. I checked it. She got out a week ago.”
“You got an albino addict,” Feeney put in.
“She saw him, Feeney. She saw him get in a car, she saw the umbrella.”
“You know what a funky junkie’s vision’s like, Dallas. In the dark, in the rain, from across the street?”
“She gave me the umbrella. Goddamn it, nobody knew about the umbrella.”