He opened his mouth, closed it again. Narrowed his eyes. “Bottom of the fifth. One out, runner on second. Jeraldo takes a ball, then knocks a nice blooper to right field. Runners on the corners. And what does that asshole Murchini do? He hits into a double play, retires the side with two on. She walked in about when Murchini came to the plate.”
“Okay. What inning did they leave?”
“Huh. Wait a minute.” Replaying the ball game tweaked his interest, just enough. “I’m getting her beer and the Sox go three up, three down. So bottom of the sixth. Cecil fouls back the first pitch, low and outside for ball one, he takes the next pitch, misses the corner, ball two, then he hits one to the hole. Sox shortstop’s all over it, but Cecil beats the throw to first.”
He nodded to himself. “Yeah, bottom of the sixth, they walk out with Unger coming up to bat, Duran’s on deck. Sox catcher goes to the mound to settle the pitcher down. They walk out.”
“Unger’s a monster,” Eve said conversationally. “What’s he batting, .330?”
“Yeah, that’s right. A guy who can walk out with a man on, no outs, Unger coming to the plate, the score tied two to two, that’s an asshole.”
“Can’t argue that. Would you say Kagen was drunk?”
A little less annoyed, Tiller shrugged. “He don’t ever leave here sober. Not my problem.”
“Have you seen the woman before?”
“Not in here. Outside, one street snatch is the same as the next, you ask me.”
Eve nodded to Peabody, who pulled the two sketches on her PPC, offered it to Tiller. “Did she look like either of these women?”
“Nowhere near classy like that one, nowhere near sexy like that one. Look, you ask me, no way that used-up pross offed Kagen anyway. Not unless she had somebody do it, and what for? It’s not like he had anything worth taking.”
“Did she take the stool beside him? Were there other seats, empty booths, chairs?”
“Yeah, she sat next to him. Sure there were empties. Not like we pack ’em in here, especially on weeknights.”
“Do you think they knew each other?” Peabody asked.
“Don’t know, but I haven’t seen her in here before. We get prossies come in now and then, trolling. He’d bite now and again, if they came cheap. He’s a cheap bastard, but paying for it’s the only way he’d get it, you a
sk me.
“Look, you gonna let me get some sleep anytime this frigging century?”
“Yeah. We appreciate your cheerful and selfless cooperation.” Knowing the futility, Eve still left a card on the bar. “If you see her again, or remember anything else, contact me.”
“Right.”
She imagined he tossed the card before the door closed behind her.
“You don’t want to have Yancy work with him?” Peabody asked.
“He wouldn’t cooperate, and we can’t make him. Plus, he didn’t really see her.”
“But, the scar,” Peabody began.
“He saw the scar because she wanted him to see the scar. He remembers that, the hair color, the fact she came off as a used-up street LC because that’s what she wanted people to see.”
With the long coat sweeping behind her, Eve shot her hands into her trouser pockets. “He gave us plenty. She knew Kagen used street level, liked them cheap. She knew he’d be drinking in there, and by that time would already have a couple in him. All she has to do is offer him a bang or BJ at a bargain price, and he’s going to go with her. All she has to do is distract him for a couple seconds, spike his drink, and he’d go with her.”
“Have a car waiting,” Peabody continued. “Not in front, around the corner, down the block. Of the three, this one was probably the easiest. Not necessarily the quickest, but the easiest. Dim, grungy bar, target’s already at least half-hammered.”
“You’re right on that, all the way right.”
The police work continued at the crime scene, but the gawkers had lost interest.
Peabody climbed into the car. “That was smart, using the ball game to jog his memory. He was a pissy wit to begin with, but using the ball game changed the angle. How does anybody remember all that?” she continued as Eve pulled away. “I mean the inning and who’s where, even balls and strikes and all that.”