With another frosty drink in his hand, Steve dropped down next to Peabody. He sucked through the straw stuck in the pale green foam. “Okay, we got five.” He hit the button that closed the clear bubble around the booth. “Ah.” He smiled into the silence as he drew on the straw. “Excellent.”
“What do you know about the transmission sent from here this morning?”
His eyes popped open. “Huh? Again?”
“EDD’s been here. They impounded the unit, talked to the day manager.”
“I just came on an hour ago and had to dive right into the pool. I didn’t hear about this. Is somebody else dead?”
Eve took out the photo of Kenby. “Recognize him?”
“Man. I don’t know. Man. I think so, maybe. I’m not sure. Should I?”
“Take a breath, Steve.”
“Yeah, right. This is brutal.” After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at the image again. “I think maybe he’s been in. Is he like an actor or something?”
“Or something.”
“You should ask Shirllee. She goes for the theater and artist types.”
“She here?”
“Yeah, she’s on. Give me a sec.”
He opened the bubble. Noise poured back over them as he slid out and hurried away.
“They got curly fries,” Peabody announced, and pun
ched in an order on the menu before Eve could speak. “My blood sugar’s dropping.”
“That’ll be the day.”
Steve came back with a tall, skinny brunette. Her hair was done in multiple and equally skinny braids that fell to her waist and were joined at the tips by a black ribbon. She wore a quartet of silver spikes in her right earlobe and a trio of silver studs dripping below her left eye like sparkly tears.
She sat next to Eve and clasped her hands together so the forest of rings on her fingers clanged and clinked. “Stevie said you’re a cop.”
“Stevie wins a point.” Eve hit the privacy button, then nudged the photo in front of Shirllee. “You know him?”
“Hey, that’s Twinkletoes. I call him that ’cause he’s a dancer. Sure, he comes in a couple times a week. Lunch break usually, or early dinner. But he’s been here for the music a few times, weekends. He can really move. What he do?”
“He come in with anybody special?”
“Travels with a theater pack mostly. Picked one out of the herd a couple of times, but he never hung with one girl. He’s straight though, ’cause I never saw him moving on another guy.”
“Anybody move on him?”
“Not especially. He mostly hangs with people he knows. He tips, too.” She shot a knowing look at Steve. “College kids stiff you, but Twinkles here, he always tipped. Brought up right, you ask me. Don’t see him getting in trouble. He never made any trouble in here.”
“When’s the last time he came in?”
“That I saw him?” She pursed lips dyed dead white. “Friday night, I think. Last Friday. We had a totally mag holoband in. Hard Crash. They’re completely juiced. Twinks was in here with a bunch of Juilliards on Friday. You remember, Stevie? He’s a fucking dancing machine once he’s revved. You were mixing him non-A Sorcerers all night.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.” Steve looked down at the photo, ran his fingertip around the border. “Sorcerers, no punch. I remember now.”
“I gotta get back on.” Shirllee reached over, opened the bubble.
“Me, too.” Steve looked up from the picture, met Eve’s gaze. “Did that help any?”