Show of Evil

up with this one,' Stenner said as they neared the city.

'Always do,' Vail said without opening his eyes.

'Very messy.'

'Most homicides are.'

Not another word was spoken until Stenner turned down the alley behind Butterfly's and stopped. While he propped the OFFICIAL CAR, DISTRICT ATTORNEY'S OFFICE placard against the inside of the windshield, Vail rapped on the door. It opened a crack and a scruffy-looking stranger, who was about six-three with machine-moulded muscles, peered out.

'We ain't open yet.'

'It's Martin Vail. We'll wait inside.'

'Vail?'

'New in town?' Stenner said from behind Vail.

'Yeah.'

'This man is the DA. We'll wait inside.'

'Oh. Righto. You betcha.'

'Assistant DA,' Vail corrected as they entered the steamy kitchen.

'I'm the new bartender,' the stranger said.

'What's your name?'

'Louis. But you can call me Lou.'

'Glad to meet you, Lou,' Vail said, and shook his hand. Vail and Stenner walked through the kitchen. It was a fairly large room with stainless-steel stoves and ovens and a large walk-in refrigerator with a thermal glass door. Bobby Wo, the Chinese cook, was slicing an onion so quickly, his hand was a blur. Chock, chock, chock, chock. Vail stopped to check the 'Special of the Day' pot.

'Shit on a shingle,' Wo said without slowing down.

'That's three times a week,' Vail complained.

'Tell the lady.' Chock, chock, chock, chock, chock.

'Quit bellyachin',' a growl for a voice said from across the room. Butterfly, who was anything but at five-four and two hundred and fifty pounds, entered the kitchen. 'There was a special on chipped beef, okay?'

'Know what I've been thinking about, Butterfly? Crepes.'

'Crepes?'

'You know, those little French pancakes, thin with—'

'A short stack,' she yelled to Bobby. 'How about you, General?'

'Major,' Stenner said. 'The usual.'

'Two soft-boiled, three and a half minutes, dry toast, burned bacon,' she yelled.

'Coffee ready?' Vail asked.

'If it wasn't, I wouldn't be this damn pleasant,' she snarled, and shuffled away on flat feet encased in ancient men's leather slippers. Vail and Stenner drew their own coffee and sat at their usual round table in the rear of the place. The morning papers were already stacked on the table.

'I'm thinking about this,' Stenner said.

Vail smiled. Of course he was. Stenner was always thinking.

'You mean, Why the dump?' Vail asked without looking up from the paper.

'No, I mean, Who are these people? How long have they been in there? Doesn't somebody miss them?'

'Disposing of them in the city dump, that's rather ironic.'

'Obvious when you think about it.'

'At least they're biodegradable,' Vail said, continuing to sip his coffee and read the paper.

Stenner stared down into his coffee cup for several seconds, then said, 'I don't think it's a pattern job. It doesn't feel right.'

'We know anything about these people?'

'We have two men and a woman. All ages, sizes, and shapes. A redhead, a blonde, a bald man with a glass eye.'