J. Robb - Creation In Death

“He’s the last thing they see,” she added. “That must give him a hell of a rush.”

I nside Starlight it was colored lights and dreamy music. Couples circled the dance floor while Zela, in a waist-cinching red suit Eve had to assume was retro, stood on the sidelines.

“Very smooth, Mr. Harrow. Ms. Yo, relax your shoulders. That’s the way.”

“Dance class,” Peabody said as Zela continued to call out instructions or encouragement. “They’re pretty good. Oops,” she added when one of the men wearing a natty bow tie stepped on his partner’s foot. “Kinda cute, too.”

“Adorable, especially considering one of them might dance on home after class and torture his latest brunette.”

“You think…one of them.” Peabody eyed Natty Bow Tie suspiciously.

“No. He’s done with this place. He’s never been known to fish from the same pool twice. But I’m damn sure he fox-trotted or whatever on that floor within the last few weeks.”

“Why do they call it a fox-trot?” Peabody wondered. “Foxes do trot, but it doesn’t look like dancing.”

“I’ll put an investigative team right on that. Let’s go.”

They headed down the silver stairs, catching Zela’s eye. She nodded, then applauded when the music ended. “That was terrific! Now that you’re warmed up, Loni’s going to take you through the rhumba.”

Zela gestured Eve and Peabody over to the bar while the young redhead led Natty Bow Tie to the center of the floor. The redhead beamed enthusiastically. “All right! Positions, everyone.”

There was a single bartender. He wore black-tie, and set a glass of bubbly water with a slice of lemon in front of Zela without asking her preference. “What can I get you, ladies?”

“Could I have a virgin cherry foam?” Peabody asked before Eve could glare at her.

“I’m good,” Eve told him, then drew out the sketch, laid it on the counter. “Do you recognize this man?”

Zela stared at it. “Is this…” She shook her head. She lifted her water, drank deeply, set it down again. Then, picking up the sketch, she angled it toward the lights. “I’m sorry. He just doesn’t look familiar. We get so many men of a certain age through here. I think if I’d worked with him-in a class-I’d remember.”

“How about you?” Eve took the sketch, nudged it across the bar.

The bartender stopped mixing Peabody’s drink to frown over the sketch. “Is this the fucker-sorry, Zela.” She only shook her head, waved the obscenity away. “This the one who killed Sari?”

“He’s a guy we want to talk to.”

“I’m good with faces, part of the trade. I don’t remember him sitting at my bar.”

“You work days?”

“Yeah. We-me and my lady-had a kid six months ago. Sari switched me to days so I could be home with my family at night. She was good about things like that. Her memorial’s tomorrow.” He looked over at Zela. “It’s not right.”

“No.” Zela laid a hand over his for a moment. “It’s not right.”

There was grief in his eyes when he moved away to finish mixing the drink.

“We’re all taking it pretty hard,” Zela said quietly. “Trying to work through it, because what can you do? But it’s hard, like trying to swallow past something that’s stuck in your throat.”

“It says a lot about her,” Peabody offered, “that she mattered to so many people.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does. I talked to Sari’s sister yesterday,” Zela continued. “She asked if I’d pick the music. What Sari liked. It’s hard. Harder than anything I imagined.”

“I’m sure it is. What about her?” Eve glanced toward the redhead. “Did she work with Sari on any of the classes?”

“No. Actually, this is Loni’s first class. We’ve had to do some…well, some internal shuffling. Loni worked coat check and revolving hostessing. I just bumped her up to hostess/instructor.”

“I’d like to talk to her.”

“Sure, I’ll send her over.” Zela rose, smiled wanly. “Pity my feet. Mr. Buttons is as cute as, well, a button, but he’s a complete klutz.”

The dancers made the switch with Loni giving her klutzy partner a quick peck on the cheek before she dashed over to the bar on three-inch heels.

“Hi! I’m Loni.”

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”

Peabody swallowed her slurp of cherry foam and tried to look more official.

“I talked to those other detectives? I have to say mmmm on both. I guess they’re not coming back?”

“Couldn’t say. Do you recognize this man?”

Loni looked at the sketch as the bartender set down beside her something pink and fizzy with a cherry garnish. “I don’t know. Hmmm. Not really. Sort of. I don’t know.”

“Which is it, Loni? Sort of or not really?”

“He kind of looks like this one guy, but that guy had dark hair, slicked back dark hair and a really thin mustache.”

“Short, tall, average? This one guy.”

“Ummm, let me think. On the short side. ’Cause Sari had an inch or two on him. Of course, she was wearing heels, so-”

“Hold on. You saw this man with Sari?”

“This one guy, yeah. Well, lots of the men liked to dance with Sari when she was working the floor. It’s probably not this guy because-”

“Hold on.” Eve pulled out her ’link, tagged Yancy. “I need you to alter the sketch. Give him dark hair, slicked back, a thin mustache. Send it to this ’link.”

“Give me a minute.”

“When did you see this man with Sari?” Eve asked Loni.

“I’m not sure. A few weeks ago, I guess. It’s hard to remember exactly. I only remember at all because I was working the floor, and I asked this guy to dance. We’re supposed to ask the singles to dance. He was sort of shy and sweet, and said how he’d just come in for the music, but thank you. Then just a little while later, I saw him dancing with Sari. It sort of frosted me, you know? Silly.” She shrugged. “But I was, like, I guess he goes for brunettes instead of…Oh.” She went a little pale. “Oh, God. This guy?”

“You tell me.” Eve turned her ’link around so that Loni could view the screen with the adjusted sketch.

“Oh God, oh God. I think, I really think that’s the guy. Brett.”

“It’s okay.” The bartender took her hand. “Take it easy.” He angled his head to look at the screen. Shook his head. “He didn’t come to the bar. I don’t remember him sitting at the bar.”

“Where was he sitting, Loni?”

“Okay. Okay.” She took long breaths as she swiveled around to study the club. “Second tier-I’m pretty sure-toward the back over there.”

“I need to talk to whoever waits tables in that section. Can you pinpoint the night, Loni?”

“I don’t know. It was a couple weeks ago. Maybe three? You know, I checked his coat once. I remember checking his coat, and that’s why I zeroed on him that night. I’d checked his coat before, and he’d been alone. So when I was working the floor, I spotted him and thought, ‘Oh yeah, that guy’s a solo.’ But he didn’t want to dance with me.”

A single tear slid down her cheek. “He wanted Sari.”

“UNOBTRUSIVE,” EVE SAID, PUSHING HER WAY through traffic as a thick, heavy snow began to fall. “Limits contact with anyone other than the target.”

“None of the waitstaff could make him, none of the valets. Could live or work within walking distance of the club,” Peabody ventured.

“Yeah, or he parks elsewhere on his own. Or he’s using public transportation for this part of his game. What cabbie’s going to remember picking up or dropping off a fare days later, or in this case weeks? We’re spitting into the wind there. Loni only remembered him because he’d spanked her vanity. Otherwise he’d have just been another forgotten face. He’d have been smarter to dance with her. She wouldn’t have remembered him for five minutes after.”